


Arthur and Merlin's Hangover

by i_amtheoutlaw



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: ACBB, Angst, BAMF!Merlin, Canon Era, Crack, M/M, Magic Reveal, Mentions of Rape, and all of the above, dub-con, lots of switching and pitching going on, magical sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 42,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amtheoutlaw/pseuds/i_amtheoutlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Magic, Courage, and Strength wake up <i>The Hangover</i> style. With nothing in their heads but an ache and some tattoos in weird places. Oh, and, of course, a nearly untied Albion on their hands . . .</p>
<p>If they can manage to defeat the demon who's out to steal every soul that makes up Arthur's kingdom, that is.</p>
<p>Why? Well, as Merlin would say: "Because why in the hell <i>not</i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by [story_monger](http://story-monger.livejournal.com/) and silence_since_silence 
> 
> Artwork by [whimsycatcher](http://whimsycatcher.tumblr.com/)

**~ Prologue ~**

_**I** am the chaos, _  
_Bringer of all destruction._  
 _The son cannot stop the knight_  
 _From claiming its reign._

I run through the forest, bare feet slapping over mud, stepping over roots, relishing in the burn of rocks against delicate skin. I feel alive again. The vessel was ready, she called me here, she wanted me, needed me. I took her, and she alone was nevermore.

_I am the chaos,_  
 _Bringer of all destruction._

The air smells fresh, so unlike what I’m used to breathing that it brings bubbles of laughter to my throat. I am going to fill this air with burning flesh and blood. This land is begging, and we will take it, carve it out, and make it ours.

_The son cannot stop the knight,_  
 _From claiming its reign._

She, the pitiful woman that I wear, called to me, and now I’m here. What to do? Where to start? A twig snaps to my left, and I smile a predatory smile in the darkness. My blackened soul throbs with excitement as I zero in on my prey. 

_I am the chaos . . ._

I run toward the sound, and I can smell him before I see him. It’s just a man. I see he’s wearing a suit made of metal to protect him, and I laugh. At first he draws his weapon and I relish in the sharp sound of it, but he soon softens. I can see the vigilance leave his eyes . . . he thinks she’s harmless, and that’s how I want it. My laughter won’t stop. It’s so loud, only getting louder, and he falls to his knees under the heavy sound of my destruction. His weapon lies in the dirt, forgotten. Her hands don’t tremble because I surge through the blood running in her veins, and I take what’s mine . . . 

The blood is cold and perfect on our hands as it bubbles from his throat. I wreck him, carve him out, and make him ours. 

_Illud incipiam._


	2. Chapter 2

The memory trickled in slowly . . . like water thawing early on a sunny spring morning.

_A woman in black._

Arthur gazed at her. She felt familiar to him. So very familiar. He couldn’t see her face because it was hidden behind a veil, but he felt with his everything that she was known to him. She opened her arms, a gesture that could be taken many ways, but Arthur found that he wanted to run toward her and bury himself in her arms. Her black dress looked torn and frayed from where he stood, but Arthur somehow knew it was not without purpose. She held a sword suddenly, a beautiful thing that shone in the sun. That was when Arthur noticed what lay at her feet. Men. Thousands of dead men and they were all clad in Camelot red. Some were still flailing in their misery, but most were torn limb from limb. Arthur could smell the death. It curled in his nostrils and down his throat; it pooled in his stomach and made him ache. He felt oppressed under the weight of it.

_Arthur, you must focus_ , the woman whispered, though the far-off noise had no problem reaching his ears. _A new war has just begun . . . but your reign is many years still._

“What do you mean?” he tried to call out, but his voice made no sound.

_Time is of the essence_ , she insisted. _Find me._

“Who are you?” Arthur shouted.

The figure slowly reached up and removed her veil. Her face was not human; her features swirled in and out of what Arthur was used to seeing. The blush on her cheeks morphed into reddened patterns that moved around her face, and her eyes, all three of them, sang out a song that his ears could not decipher. They were glowing black—no white—no gold. They were empty and they were full. Arthur had never seen anything like it before, but he felt as if he knew her still.

She lifted a hand, and up with it rose the limbs of one of his fallen men. She raised the other hand, and up came a torso from another man, then followed the head from another. Arthur watched in stunned silence as the pieces started to ooze with fresh blood and attach themselves to each other.

Once the body was reassembled, she spoke softly, but each word that tumbled out of her lips seared itself on the body between them, across the chest, then each thigh.

_Non timbo mala_ , the figures read before they exploded into light, and Arthur bolted awake. He was sweaty and out of sorts still, but he could tell that he was tucked into the comfort of his own bed as the familiar smell of herby soap and Merlin quickly replaced the dead one . . . 

And, yes, Arthur really didn’t take a sip of mead, let alone wine, for months after he’d woken up that day. It wasn’t something a king could exactly be proud of, waking up completely bare and vulnerable without a thought in his mind but, _gods above . . . is my head still attached to my body?_ Not to mention how much he’d let such a simple nightmare affect his breathing.

Arthur had never woken up like this. Sure, he’d been pretty smashed and had woken up a bit hazy before, mostly thanks to his evil witch of a sister—who turned out to be an actual witch—spiking his wine. Yet on this morning, Arthur woke up utterly dazed, naked, and without a clue to what happened last night or even how he ended up in his own bed. All he remembered was being at a feast that he hoped was the night before, and then waking up from that strange dream.

Once he realized that the sun was fighting hard to break through his thick curtains, Arthur attempted to slide out of bed and cursed his lazy manservant on the way.

Only, Arthur’s attempt to get out proved harder than he'd expected. Instead of simply rolling gracefully to the floor like he intended, Arthur was stopped midway by sleepy sounds of protest and a very bony body. Arthur just assumed he’d taken a serving girl to bed the night before and ignored the other’s presence completely. He continued to open up the curtains, and this time he was cursing Guinevere. Arthur never thought he would be taking a random serving girl to bed again, but alas. Arthur took in a deep breath, blocked out the image of Gwen in Lancelot’s arms, and let the harsh sunlight wake him up further. After a few deep breaths, Arthur regained a little more mind power and started to hope that the girl wasn’t too young. And just where in the hell was Merlin anyway? Arthur wondered. The servant was supposed to stop Arthur from doing things like this. Gods, Arthur wished he could remember something. Bloody anything.

Then, Arthur turned around.

And that was when the king, the kingdom, and the warlock were changed forever.

**~ — ~**

Outside the castle, hidden in the shadows of the tall stone, a beautiful woman lurked. Her body was that of a queen, made to wear a crown. But today her long brown curls were all that hung out of her red cloak. She smiled and stared up at the windowpane where she felt presences stirring.

Her plan had gone awry, but she knew better than to underestimate them again.

_A cry of a single dragon had changed everything._

She came to claim what was hers. She would not fail this time.


	3. Chapter 3

“Merlin!” Arthur bellowed when he took in the sight of one very morning-ruffled manservant’s head whose other body parts seemed to be drowned somewhere beneath Arthur’s sheets.

“Sire,” Merlin grumbled on reflex. He was still asleep, but his face scrunched up comically before he rolled over in a poor attempt to block out the sun.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asked quite loudly after he stared at the back of Merlin’s head for a good couple of minutes.

Merlin startled up at the sound of Arthur’s kingly-command voice, but when he turned to Arthur with a glare it was clear Merlin hadn’t yet realized the full extent of his current situation. Although, compared to the usual Merlin, the manservant did seem to catch on rather quickly. Then again, Arthur was naked.

Merlin’s brows slowly laced together, and he soon started to stutter, “Um . . . well . . . I . . . um . . . I really couldn’t tell you, sire.” Merlin blinked a few times and looked around Arthur’s chambers with squinty eyes, as if he could find the answer written on a cobblestone. “I don’t remember a thing.”

Arthur tried to take a deep breath, tried to contain his anger, but he failed. He desperately wanted to be mad at Merlin, and, not too long ago, Arthur wouldn’t have thought twice about blaming the servant. At this point, though, Arthur knew that he could only be angry with himself. The thought of Arthur allowing himself to take Merlin to bed—drunk or not—angered him. Merlin was only his servant and he was meant to stay that way. Arthur did not think about him like that. Never had. Ever. So, as Merlin sat perplexed under Arthur’s sheets with a stupid little knit between his brow, Arthur found he couldn't contain his shouting, “Get the hell out of my bed!”

Merlin at least had the decency to look a bit frightened, but other than that Merlin didn’t react. That was, until he slowly pulled the covers up a little and peeked under them.

“Um. I don’t have on any pants,” Merlin then announced, a few honest words that confronted Arthur’s temporary worst fear. He’d taken his skinny, irritating, completely disproportionate, mentally inflicted manservant to bed.

Arthur let out a long suffering sigh. “Of course. And why don’t you have on any pants, _Mer_ lin?”

“How should I know?” Merlin replied. His tone was defensive in that stupid, girly way that only Merlin--and maybe Morgana--ever managed. “Why haven’t you got any pants on, _your highness_?”

“I . . . well.” Arthur cut himself off and looked down at his own nakedness. He then looked back up at Merlin and tried to find a smile. He failed. “It’s definitely not the same reason you don’t have any pants on . . . and that’s a fact.”

Merlin’s eyes blew comically wide at Arthur’s comment, as if the possibility had never even occurred to him despite their current situation. A warm blush then covered Merlin’s pale chest and neck; it crept slowly up to stain his cheeks last. Arthur swallowed. Okay, so, he might have wondered once or twice if Merlin’s blush dipped below his neckerchief.

“Of course, sire,” Merlin agreed quickly, his storm blue eyes swirled with conflicting emotions as they locked on the crimson sheets. Arthur absently studied the thrashing currents without really learning anything until Merlin’s head dropped and effectively hid them from his view.

A few moments passed in silence as Merlin looked at the sheet and Arthur stared at the top of his head, then Merlin seemed to see something that scared him and he hopped out of Arthur’s bed like the mattress was on fire. Merlin had little time to even gather himself before he hissed and grabbed at his own backside. Arthur flinched. Even though Arthur mainly tried to stick to women, he’d taken enough boys to bed to know what that sound was when he heard it.

Then Merlin’s eyes shot to Arthur’s own and they stood there, naked, and looked at each other. Somehow their nakedness seemed minimal under the weight of the thick air that surrounded them. Arthur didn’t know it at the time, but he would always remember that moment in great detail. Merlin’s eyes were huge with disbelief and hurt and confusion and about a million other emotions, and for reasons that Arthur couldn’t admit to himself yet he found that he wanted to crawl under the bed and never come back out.

“Oh. My. Gods,” Merlin said, his eyes closed as he shook his head in disbelief. “You fucked me . . . _Arthur_ . . . you really did fuck me last night, you _clotpole_!”

“I did not!” Arthur protested immediately as he tried to think of something else to say. He tried to make himself believe it was true. He told himself that Merlin was nothing but a useless servant. He told himself that even if he had the opportunity he would never take Merlin to bed. Arthur was lying to himself mostly. “There is no way! You’re an _utter cabbage head_!”

However, Arthur could tell just by looking at the shine that ran down Merlin’s thighs that his manservant was most definitely fucked by someone last night, and the thought of someone else doing that to Merlin, with him in such a state, filled Arthur with anger even stronger than when Arthur thought about him doing it himself. Merlin huffed a little and sat back on the bed, his hands crossed and covered his softness. Arthur found that he desperately wanted to say the right thing but he didn’t know where to start.

“Um. Fuck,” Arthur said, and shook his head. That was definitely not right. “Merlin. I’m so sorry. I . . . I don’t remember anything either . . . and, _just fuck_.” Arthur turned around, not able to take the look of betrayal on Merlin’s face any longer. Surely his manservant never thought he would wake up one day to find himself unwillingly taken by a man at a time when he wouldn’t be able to recall it. Especially by someone he’d considered a friend. Arthur walked over to the table and sat down. The wood was uncomfortable and cold on his backside, but it also grounded him in ways that were needed. Arthur was totally perplexed. He felt like he was sixteen again, and knelt down before his father’s throne. Arthur blinked. “Merlin . . . I. I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry. I—”

“Arthur, its o—”

That was when Arthur heard it. The screech.


	4. Chapter 4

Deep below, through the veil and the layers of the lost . . . past the savage forest and its monstrous souls, a man stood on a rocky shoreline and took in his surroundings.

The man showed no emotion as his blue eyes scanned the lake of swirling torment below him. He wasn’t on the earthly realm, and he hadn’t been for a long time.

The ones who were serving punishment in the lake were lifeless nothings with their faces contorted into an eternal screams. The ones that were crawling up the walls of molten rocks behind him were old and aged by their punishments, able to howl and laugh in the face of all the pain. Some of them had leathery wings to match their leathery skin, and they circled above. Some that climbed the rocky walls had long talons that scraped along the burning stone. It was the only music any of them ever heard. Those that had been studious and were perfected in the ways of the land had skin that was morphed thorny from all their skill. Those souls huddled calmly in the dark crevasses and waited for the man to give them orders.

Unlike the souls around him, the man stood quietly and still. He looked completely at ease except for the small crease between his brows. He also looked normal, had black hair that was barely frosted with grey and had smooth skin. Where the other souls’ eyes were pitch black, the man’s blue eyes were bright and contrasted against the dark, fiery landscape that surrounded him.

He was not like them. He hadn’t asked to be there, he hadn’t bargained, nor did he earn his way. But after being there for so long, he felt as hardened as the rest. He was as hardened as the rest.

They called him the First. Not many were still alive who knew differently.

_Abaddon_ , he thought, picturing the blackened, thorny knight. Abaddon, who had served him flawlessly until this mission, had made a mistake the night before that led to dire consequences. The last six hours felt like they had been a scramble, an attempt to regain control.

Abaddon claimed her failure was simply bad luck—the untimely cry of a dragon.

He, however, hadn’t ever believed in luck. He only believed in what he could see. These days that was only Lucifer and God, their battle, and the casualties it brought along with it.

To the west, the first faint scream of morning arose. On the shore, Cain stood and patiently waited for word from Abaddon that her mission had gone exactly as planned.

The darkness that consumed his soul wished desperately for her to succeed, but there was another part of him. A part of him that was buried so deep that he wasn’t even sure if it existed anymore. A part of his humanity that wanted her to fail.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin and Arthur both fell quiet at the strange noise and their blue eyes instantly scanned the chamber. Merlin’s eyes shot up while Arthur’s eyes searched below. It seemed to be secure until a sudden flash of white skin whirled right by Arthur’s face accompanied by more loud screeches. The small white creature was moving so fast through the air that Arthur couldn’t tell what it was until the thing decided that Arthur’s pillow looked like a nice place to rest and fluttered itself gracefully upon the softness. It was so light that it barely even left a dent in the cloth. Merlin startled, got onto his hands and knees, and peered over with wide eyes full of disbelief to the far side of the bed where the thing la—

“Oh. My. Gods,” Arthur said, because what in the hell was _that_? Arthur couldn’t even focus on the infiltrating creature anymore because that was . . . Merlin had . . . oh, dear Gods above.

Arthur was glued to the sight of his manservant’s backside, focused right below his arse cheek where a perfect red dragon had been drawn.

_Drawn_ being the operative word there. Because no. Just no. Arthur couldn’t deal with that. Merlin’s arse was just that. _Merlin’s_ arse. Not Arthur’s arse. Even if it was for some reason sporting the Pendragon seal with bold, red pride at the moment.

Just as Arthur decided that there was no way he was going to be the one that pointed out the dragon on Merlin’s arse first, Merlin looked nervously over his shoulder and Arthur eyes quickly shot up, and he tried to seem like he was completely focused on the _baby dragon_ , of course, and not his manservant’s bum. Even though it was quite perky and toned with thin, lean muscles. And, like, bloody marked up like it was Arthur’s property or something. Arthur totally didn’t catch the way that the new position showed off the fresh slickness coming from between Merlin’s legs either . . . nor did it turn him on. No, not in the least—

And all the divine fucks . . .

Because that was a _baby dragon._

It hit him as Arthur watched the thing furrow its wings and wriggle around to get comfy. He located his sword and pushed all thoughts of Merlin’s bum aside. Arthur had expected his sword to be thrown about, but it was, luckily, right where he always left it during the night. Arthur supposed he had Merlin to thank for that like usual.

“Mama?” The baby dragon suddenly said in a small voice that made Arthur think twice about killing the thing. Then Arthur realized the thing said _mama_ . . . and that it seemed to be referring to him.

“Mama!” The thing then cheered and the next thing Arthur knew he was getting a chest-full of clinging, baby dragon.

“Uhh . . . ugh . . .” Arthur stuttered. He hadn’t a clue what to do with himself, let alone the fragile looking creature. Then the bloody thing craned its thin neck back and gave Arthur a light peck on his nose; Arthur totally didn’t think it was the cutest thing ever.

“Mama no kill Aithusa!” The dragon seemed to be correcting Arthur for even thinking about grabbing his sword. “Mama love Aithusa!”

“A—Aithusa?” Arthur questioned as the thing burrowed itself into the crook of his neck. “Is that your name?”

The thing chuckled—actually chuckled—then replied, “Yes . . . broder said mama was idiot, I say no way! So please don’t act idiot!”

Before Arthur could even process that the baby dragon was implying more dragons, Aithusa was off in a flash of white, across the room in seconds, and roughly clung to Merlin’s head; her wings wrapped fully around the bulk of it, and her talons gripped tightly to his giant ears. Merlin squawked in a completely unmanly way and yanked her off, “A—Aithusa!” Merlin looked utterly perplexed. Worse than when he found out that Arthur had stuck his cock inside him. Wait until he’d seen the—completely washable of course—dragon on his bum. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

Aithusa merely smiled in a reptilian way and flapped her thin wings even harder trying to breach Merlin’s long reach. The dragon cried, “Papa!” in an even more excited tone than she'd used with Arthur. Merlin just stared at her and seemed to be at a loss for words. She eventually broke free and automatically clung to his ears again as she laid her head on top of Merlin’s ruffled one. “So good see you . . . miss papa so much!” She hummed contently as she ruffled herself into Merlin’s mop; the black tufts parted for her long neck perfectly.

Arthur wasn’t really focused on her words at this point, because he had just noticed the strange little sparkle in her eye. She really was a beautiful creature. She looked so lithe and smooth and young as she clung to Merlin’s head with all the happiness of a human child. Arthur’s heart warmed and he decided then that he could not kill this creature who seemed to be a little confused as to what species it was. After all, mothers were . . . very important. No. Arthur could never have killed this dragon and decided he would let no harm come of her. It was strange, he knew that. How could he not? But Arthur felt connected to her somehow, almost as if they’d met before.

Then, Merlin tore her off again and broke Arthur’s thought process.

“Don’t hurt her!” Arthur shouted. He tried to control his emotions. However, Arthur had found himself rushing to Merlin’s side and ripping her out of the tight grip. Arthur was quick to cradle Aithusa against his chest. Her earlier words caught up with Arthur then. “Wait! Papa? Wait! You . . . you know her?”

Arthur looked to Aithusa, who suddenly looked a lot less like a happy child and instead resembled one of Arthur’s dogs after they’d peed on Uther’s favorite rug. Then, Arthur looked to his manservant. He’d never seen Merlin look so utterly distraught before. As much as Arthur liked to joke that Merlin wore his heart on his sleeve, the servant very rarely did anymore. These days Merlin was always quick to show off his anger or smugness, but wore a mask fit for a king when it came to anything else. Seeing Merlin so open was disconcerting. Arthur looked back to the baby dragon and saw that it had tears welling in its small eyes. Arthur didn’t get it; he looked back to Merlin for answers.

Merlin finally seemed to slump back into reality a little bit, his face turned pale and his eyes widened stupidly as he stuttered, “I . . . um . . . well . . . no . . . of course—I mean well . . .”

Aithusa laughed a little nervous laugh and rubbed her scaly skin against Arthur’s neck, grabbing his attention again.

“Gharrah says papa idiot sometimes too,” she claimed.

It must have had something to do with him holding the most beautiful, powerful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on against his chest, but Arthur couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up and his accusatory tone turned light as he addressed the dragon. “Well, your brother is right about that then, isn’t he?”

She nodded and laughed. Then, as if remembering something, she suddenly turned serious and said, “Mama no be mad at papa, he keep secrets for good reason. Gharrah says papa always keep secrets for good reason. Even keep Aithusa secret for good reason. Gharrah says Aithusa can’t be mad either!”

“Oh don’t worry, Aithusa . . . mama isn’t upset,” Arthur started toward the bed and ignored Merlin’s throaty chuckle entirely. The servant sounded more strangled than amused anyway. “But he does need to talk to—um—papa for a second.” After he placed her back on the pillow, he then scolded her with a harsh pointing finger. “If I come back in here and something’s on fire, we are going to have a big problem missy, understand?”

She nodded and smiled again, and though Arthur wanted to believe that cute little face, he still wasn’t confident about her understanding. As he turned back toward Merlin, Arthur calmly said, “Follow me . . . _now_.”

Arthur went to leave his chambers then suddenly remembered something very important. He turned around and took in the mess of strewn-about clothes.

Arthur sighed. That was when he made the vow to never drink again.

When Arthur looked up Merlin was staring at him with a look of pure horror on his face. One that was most definitely worse than any of the others he’d worn previously that day. It was actually how Arthur imagined Merlin would look when he discovered the Pendragon seal on his bum. But he had no clue what had set Merlin off this time, because he was confident Merlin hadn’t seen the tattoo— _drawing_ —yet. Merlin continued to stare blankly at the spot where Arthur stood and didn’t snap out of it until Arthur bent down, picked up Merlin’s neckerchief off of the floor, and threw it at Merlin’s face. He snapped out of it a bit then and they both started to dress, but Merlin still wore a ridiculously stunned expression.

“What is it?” Arthur asked when it became obvious that Merlin wasn’t going to say anything.

Merlin, honest to the Gods, squeaked. But he hurried to assure, “Nothing—nothing, sire.”

Arthur was suspicious, but he would let it drop for now.

Arthur was happy that there weren’t any guards at his doors when he stormed out of them silently hoping his chambers weren’t about to be burnt down. Merlin, however, was instantly alert and questioning it, like the girl he was always destined to be.

“Arthur, why do you think there’s no guards at the door?”

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes.

“I’m guessing it’s because I told them to go away so I could rape you last night.”

Merlin frowned and shook his head.

“No. Something’s not right.” Merlin closed his eyes for a second and breathed in deeply. Arthur pursed his lips and hated himself even more because Merlin didn’t immediately deny the R word. When Merlin opened his eyes again they were dark with concern and a deep knit played between his brows.

“Shit,” Merlin gasped and he sprinted forward down the hall, then off into another corridor.

Arthur closed his eyes, prayed for patience, and ran after his servant. He was pretty sure that great kings were supposed to be wise and stuff and not chase after their mentally afflicted manservants, but Arthur had been making a lot of terrible decisions lately it would seem. So one more didn’t sound that bad.


	6. Chapter 6

The burn of his mark drew Cain’s attention from the tormented sounds that hung in the rising mist above the body of stewing souls below him. He quickly tuned in to the other side and listened for her voice.

_It’s about time_ , Cain thought. He was eager for news. It’d been so long since any of them had been summoned. Since any of them had had a chance. A small part of his mind was aware of the real reason he was so eager. He wished to walk amongst them again; he wished to once more feel how their emotions pulsed through the clean air. This was the reason he’d yet to let Abaddon summon him. He could not walk on the earthly plain again until the heavens had fallen and hell was all that walked on the surface.

“Go ahead,” he prompted, voice slow and steady.

_It is me_ , the voice replied. The noise was far off yet close. It flooded through a bloody connection and rang silently through the air and burned along his skin. _Abaddon._

He sensed an unusual nervousness in her tone. The other demons never really spoke to Cain directly, and it was even rarer that they lived to survive another day after a debacle like the one last night. Nonetheless, to Cain, Abaddon was not any demon. She was his first, most loyal servant and he still believed her to be the best for the job. It was she after all, who’d been summoned. Her skill was what had been called to complete the task.

_I have an update_ , Abaddon said.

Cain stayed quiet, a cue for her to continue.

When she spoke, her tone was void of emotions. It was clearly an attempt to sound calm. The demon, however, was the embodiment of chaos herself, and could not fool Cain for a second. She was strung tight and dying to snap.

_The warlock still has the key_ , she said, a bit of her demonic hiss seeped through. _They cannot use them without the witch. So their plans to stop us are held for now. They will come to us in time._

Cain remained silent for a long moment. He was never the type to sit back and watch his plans unfold around him; he was much too impulsive for that. Knowing Abaddon as he did, though, he knew she would not sit tight without leaving destruction in her every wake until she’d gotten what she wanted—what they needed.

“Understood,” he finally said, already letting go of their connection. “I imagine they are already searching out a way to find you.”

Cain hoped he was right, because what good was a kingdom without all its souls?


	7. Chapter 7

“Nobody,” Arthur said again. He had no clue how many times he had absently said the word already; he just knew that it was true. “Nobody. Fuck, Merlin, _nobody_!”

Arthur felt dizzy. His Kingdom. His people. They were all gone, like they’d never even existed. Not even a drop of blood was left as proof of the lives they once had. Or of the death that took them.

Merlin was in a heap on the dirt ground. They made their way out to the courtyard after they'd sprinted around the castle. They were on a search for anyone. Dead or alive, but they didn’t find a soul. So they ran out here in a panic and searched everywhere, and not a single sign of life stirred their attention.

A few moments ago, Merlin had taken a heaving, strangled breath and had fallen to the ground in a tired pile of limbs, and Arthur had just watched him fall . . . just stood there and took in Merlin’s anguish. Arthur was unable to find a word as he watched Merlin battle with his tears and lose terribly. He watched as Merlin lay in the city’s dirt and wept for their people. For their Camelot. Arthur felt his own throat pull tight and had to suppress his own urge to cry. Arthur really fucked up this time. He just wished he could remember how. Hell, he wished he could remember anything from the night before, but all he saw in his mind’s eye when he tried were writhing bodies, and Arthur felt like he was going to be sick.

Merlin suddenly stopped everything and rolled over, grabbing Arthur’s attention again. Frozen still in time for what seemed like minutes, Merlin lay there and stared straight at the high sun. Arthur flinched after several seconds of watching. The dark-haired man was so strange. He had always surprised Arthur by saying the most unexpected thing, or doing an impossible little miracle like stare into the sun for minutes. Most people saw Merlin do these things and labelled him as a simpleton, but as much as Arthur tried to do that he never once truly could. Because Merlin didn’t look simple then as he stared off into the tortuous bright nothingness. No. Merlin looked beautiful and content even in his distressed state, like the servant didn’t consider it strange that his eyes weren’t feeling like they were burning out of his sockets when another person’s would.

Arthur wondered if maybe Merlin never did notice; if maybe Merlin didn’t know he was special in the good way. The kind of way that made kings feel weak in the knees and fuzzy on the inside. Arthur wanted to smile then, but he couldn’t manage it around the sick feeling that still resided in his gut. Arthur hoped he told Merlin how special he was before he made love to him last night. Then Arthur was absently shaking his head at the thought, because no. It didn’t matter. He could say it out loud a million times and it would never change any of this. Gods, Arthur _really_ fucked up.

Merlin blinked once and stood. He dusted himself off a bit, then looked Arthur right in the eye and said, “I think I really fucked up.”

Arthur didn’t smile or bother to hide the tears that had welled in the corners of his eyes, but he did let out a dry laugh as he tugged a rough fist through his sweaty hair. “I was literally just thinking the same thing.”

Arthur hoped he’d told Merlin how perfect he was too even though it didn’t matter. Maybe because it didn’t matter.

“I found something,” Merlin said suddenly. Or maybe it wasn’t so sudden, maybe their silence had stretched for longer than Arthur remembered. “It was under the covers this morning. I think it might have to do with all this . . . it bears a mark of the old religion I think.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Merlin?”

Merlin gave no answer, he just shrugged and pulled something out of his pocket. Merlin held up a stone, and Arthur stared. He was instantly drawn to the object. It fit in Merlin’s palm but it was by no means small, and it looked heavy. It seemed black at first, but then Arthur couldn’t define a single color. Like the stone changed before his very eyes. Arthur felt the chill of seeing something familiar before it hit him. He’d seen a color like that before. It had been earlier this morning, in his dream. The woman’s eyes. Black—no white—no gold.

Arthur couldn’t stop his mouth as it fell open, and he instantly snatched up the stone from Merlin’s hand so he could study it closer.

As Arthur ran his thumb down the side of it, the already fading memory of his dream materialized again—the thin, veiled woman in the same black, raggedy dress. Like before, she was standing in an ocean of Camelot’s dead and suffering knights. When she spoke out, her voice was pleading.

_You will only find what you seek._

Unlike his dream earlier, Arthur was suddenly overtaken with a feeling that told him he must save her. That he must save all of them.

“Tell me who you are,” Arthur called out into the silence. “What do you want from me?”

Her long black hair started flowing in the wind, which alerted Arthur to the change in temperature. It was getting hotter.

_There is not much time left_ , she whispered. Then, without warning, she burst into white hot flames that engulfed them both.

Arthur shouted and his eyes flew open.

“Arthur . . . what is it?” Merlin asked as he eyed Arthur with concern.

“I keep seeing the same scene,” Arthur admitted. He was too shaken to try and lie to his manservant. Merlin knew him too well anyway. “The same woman . . . when I woke this morning, it was all I could remember. I thought it was just a dream, but . . .”

Arthur trailed off. If it wasn’t a dream then what was it?

Arthur chanced a look at Merlin. The servant wasn’t looking at Arthur like he was crazy; he just seemed concerned.

“What do you see?” Merlin asked, taking the stone back from Arthur. He studied it intently, like he would be able to see the same thing Arthur had by mere will power alone.

“It hardly matters,” Arthur replied shortly. “It makes no sense.”

“No . . . it might,” Merlin said, and he actually looked less concerned suddenly, like he’d remembered something very important. “Do you remember when Lady Melanie fell and lost a few years of her memory?”

Arthur nodded. How could he forget? The woman walked into the council chambers naked asking for her dead husband.

“Well . . . Gaius said that she was having, um . . . he’d called them visions, but he didn’t tell your father that because it sounded too magical, even though Gaius swore to me that it wasn’t caused by sorcery. He said that the mind sometimes wants you to remember the things you forget after it’s been damaged. In her case, the visions were simple . . . trying to remind her that her husband was dead, but . . . I have a feeling what you’re trying to remember is a lot more complicated.”

“So . . . you’re trying to tell me that I forgot seeing a field full of dead Camelot soldiers and a woman with three eyes?”

Merlin’s eyes grew wide, but he quickly regrouped. “Not necessarily . . . your mind can’t remember everything, so it’s filling in the pieces with lots of your memories—past, present, imagination. Whatever it can find. Gaius said it’s like what happens when you dream . . . it’s like they’re all muddled up in there. A bunch of symbols that only your mind can understand.”

“That . . . actually makes sense.” Arthur thought about the matching colors of the stone and eyes. “This stone . . . it’s the same color as the woman’s eyes.”

Merlin’s eyes grew three times as wide at that and he gasped out, “You’re sure, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded.

Merlin flipped the stone over and pointed to the markings on the other side. “You see this? It’s not the mark of a sorcerer. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Arthur snorted, “Yes, _Mer_ lin . . . because you’re so wise in the ways of sorcery.”

Merlin suddenly looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Merlin . . . we need to start searching for answers,” he started, and grabbed Merlin by the arm to lead him back toward the castle. “And I would like to make sure Aithusa hasn’t burned everything to a crisp.”

Merlin stopped suddenly. He didn’t pull his arm away, but Arthur couldn’t move him. His manservant just stood there and stared at Arthur with an unreadable look in his eye. It wasn’t until Merlin visibly shook himself did he talk.

“You just . . . called her . . . Aithusa.”

It wasn’t said as a question but Merlin looked so very confused. Arthur decided he wasn’t touching that one with a ten foot lance. Instead the king pushed down his urge to cling to his manservant and strode away with a loud huff.

“Wait!” Arthur stopped suddenly and turned around. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. In his defense, the baby dragon was low on his list of worries at the moment. “How _do_ you know her, _Mer_ lin?”

“It’s just like you said, sire . . . I am so wise to the ways of sorcery.”

Merlin took off. He now strode purposely, and Arthur nearly had to run to keep up with him. He kept asking Merlin about the dragon. Where she came from? When they met? How come she thought that they were her parents? Merlin stayed silent and ignored Arthur completely as they swiftly made their way back to the castle. Merlin’s worn boots made him seem impossibly silent on the stone, even as he'd stormed through the halls toward Arthur’s chambers. It made Merlin’s vocal silence all the more infuriating. It wasn’t until Arthur started yelling that Merlin stopped everything and turned around, his boots squeaked softly in protest. The manservant had glared something fierce. Arthur nearly recoiled at the sight of such heavy loathing in his manservant’s eyes. The prince managed a glare of his own however, but Merlin only lifted his chin slightly at the gesture. It was a clear signal of his defiance. That really shouldn’t have made Arthur feel lighter inside, but for some unknown reason it did.

Predictably, Merlin soon deflated. Sighing, he said, “I don’t think my treason should be on your list of priorities right now, sire, not when the kingd—“

“Treason?” Arthur bristled, talking over Merlin.

Merlin looked nonplused, though, and explained it as if he thought Arthur was the dumb one. “Dragons are creatures of magic, Arthur, and magic is outlawed. Association with a dragon is therefore treason . . . would you not agree?”

“I . . .” Arthur fell silent, but it was clear that he agreed on at least one level. Aithusa, though, she was so . . . Arthur didn’t want to say perfect, but yes. It seemed she was so far.

“That’s what I thought . . . how about from now on, you don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to?” Merlin suggested. “At least until we figure out how to get our people back.”

Arthur instantly opened his mouth to protest, but then Aithusa’s earlier words suddenly flashed to the front of his mind. _Mama no be mad at papa, he keep secrets for good reason_ , she’d said, and Gods be damned if Merlin’s little speech just then didn’t make Arthur believe her words true. Arthur was far from being doubt-free, but knowing that Merlin was concerned about their people was enough for now. With only a look shared between them, they both started walking again.

Arthur didn’t look at Merlin once as he gave orders to ready their traveling supplies when they’d reached Arthur’s chamber doors. No, he kept his eyes averted because looking would mean seeing, and seeing meant thinking, and thinking, well . . . thinking led to knowing. And if knowing that Merlin was a traitor was the end game, then Arthur would rather not look.

He didn’t care if that made him a coward.


	8. Chapter 8

Aithusa was gone when they got back. Arthur did not freak out. Absolutely did not.

“Oh my Gods, Merlin!” Arthur bellowed as he thrust fingers through his hair. All thoughts of Merlin’s treachery were instantly pushed aside. “Where could she have gone?!”

“She’ll be fine, Arthur,” Merlin said, and, wow, he was way too bloody calm. “It’s not like there’s anyone in the kingdom who would kill her right now.”

“Kill—what?!” Arthur yelled. Then it hit him. Most of his father’s knights would not hesitate to slay a creature of magic, even if it was a baby. He nearly did this morning, but Arthur still found himself hoping that his most trusted knights would know better and stop themselves like he had. “I didn’t even think about that!”

Merlin just sent him a very unimpressed look. And yes, Arthur knew he sounded hysterical, but he was the king, damn it. He could flip out if he wanted, and Merlin couldn’t say anything about it. Of course the servant did anyway. “They are your rules, sire.”

“My—what?!” Arthur yelled now, a little less than coherent. Yes, that was definitely going to be the first revision he made to his father’s laws. No child, whether born of magic or not, would be hunted. Arthur didn’t want any child in Camelot to fear for their lives. A thought of that little boy, Mordred, flashed to the front of his mind. Arthur suddenly wondered why he hadn’t thought to change that part of the law already. He never wanted another child to be that scared within Camelot’s walls again. “Oh . . . stop looking so smug and help me find her.”

“No,” Merlin said, and Arthur swiveled around to glare at him. “She is not important right now, Arthur, and she will be fine. I promise. You can still trust me—”

“You,” Arthur started as he closed the distance between them, “do not tell me what to do.”

Merlin seemed to go from having no anger to full-fledged rage in a second flat, “Oh yes, right . . . I’m just here to roll over and take it, is that it?”

Arthur recoiled at Merlin’s words. He was across the room in seconds. As far as he could possibly get from Merlin. What was Arthur supposed to say? He could play into Merlin’s anger by telling Merlin a vague truth. How yes, Merlin was to be whatever Arthur wanted him to be. Or Arthur could tell the whole truth; Arthur could tell Merlin how he never thought Merlin capable of rolling over and taking anything. He could explain how much Arthur loved what Merlin did for him. But before Arthur could say anything, Merlin sighed and crossed the room, closing the distance between them.

“I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I just,” Merlin sighed again and for some reason he looked rather sheepish. The sudden change had Arthur lurching on the inside. He tried not to let the conflicting emotions show on his face. “It’s weird not remembering something like that.”

“Merlin, still, I am sorry,” Arthur said, he tried to keep eye contact and failed. “You aren’t someone that, well, um—”

“What?” Merlin sneered, his anger back again. “I get that it didn’t mean anything, Arthur. How could it? I’m just your servant. That doesn’t mean you raped me though; I’m sure I was quite willing.”

The bitterness in Merlin’s tone stung, and Arthur didn’t know what to make of his words. Was Merlin mad because his drunkenness had made him willing?

“That’s not exactly what I meant, Merlin. I just meant that I would never have taken you to bed—”

“Because I most likely have a mental affliction, _we know_ —”

“Shut up,” Arthur growled. “Would you just let me finish?”

Merlin bit his lip and nodded. His eyes seemed unguarded and open as they searched Arthur’s face. The king wondered what the servant saw.

“I just. You aren’t someone I would ever want to take to bed, because well . . . what now?” Arthur asked.

The anger seemed to dissolve from Merlin then, but instead of stepping back, Merlin inched forward. He looked Arthur in the eye the whole time, but Gods be damned if Arthur could see anything helpful behind those eyes. He felt little under the weight of such an unreadable gaze, but it wasn’t suppressing him like his father’s used to. No. The weight felt heavy and whole, like when he picked up a sword after a few days without training. It may have felt new and stretched, but it felt good . . . it felt right.

Merlin stopped when his chest was flush against Arthur’s own, and he opened up his mouth to speak, but before he could, Arthur’s chamber doors flew open and loud screeches filled the room.

Aithusa was, luckily, the only dragon bursting through the doors, but she wasn’t alone. Her talons gripped some poor lad by his long, shaggy hair and dragged him into the chamber. Arthur had all of two seconds to be filled with pride at the sight before she dropped the lad on to the stone floor and Merlin squeaked out, “Gwaine!”

“Oh Gods,” Gwaine groaned as he looked up and took in the sight of them. Merlin and Arthur both seemed to realize how close they were still standing then and jumped apart. “Not again. Tell me, I’m still dreaming?”

“Gwaine,” Merlin squeaked out again, at the same time Arthur growled,

“How’d I know you’d be involved in this?”

“Just please,” Gwaine begged. He covered his eyes and bowed his head as he rolled onto his arse and sat up. “Just don’t . . . ever touch each other in front of me ever again. I’ve—seen things—too much. _Things_.”

“You remember what happened last night?” Merlin and Arthur asked in unison, and Arthur could practically feel the mirrored hope that radiated from his manservant.

“I . . .” Gwaine fell silent, and Arthur felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach when the knight’s eyebrows slowly laced together. “I just remember the two of you bloody snogging your faces off . . . and Arthur, you—you had a baby . . . a little girl.”

“What?” Arthur squeaked, at the same time Merlin groaned out,

“Damn it. It’s just the bloody visions.”

Arthur face-palmed, because of course: Confused baby dragon. Gwaine seemed to realize then that all his memories didn’t quite make sense and his brows furrowed even further. Arthur sighed. “Well, what do you remember, Gwaine? Even if it sounds ridiculous we need to know.”

“Why?” Gwaine asked and Arthur could hear the knight growing defensive. Arthur clinched his fist to keep himself from smacking Gwaine upside the head. Gwaine was the only knight in all of Camelot who would disobey a direct order like that. “What the hell is going on? Did I seriously just get dragged out of a _well_ by a _baby dragon_?”

“Because, Gwaine,” Arthur started through clinched teeth, ignoring the look of pure glee that now resided on the knight’s face, “the whole kingdom is missing. And none of us—us only consisting of me, you, and Merlin as of right now—remember a thing that happened last night. Merlin seems to think that our minds are trying to help us remember through these dreams or visions. Is that good enough for you? Or should I write it up, have it notified, and mail it to the tavern for you?”

Gwaine just rolled his eyes. “Anything for the princess,” he muttered, before he gave in and started to explain. “Okay, so I remember Merlin was royally pissed off because you dismissed him early from the feast. Something about . . .” Gwaine trailed off and furrowed his brows. “Oh yes! Spilt wine. There was definitely spilt wine involved.”

Gwaine nodded to himself before he continued. “I followed Merlin back to your chambers, and then I realized just how pissed off Merlin really was at you, princess. There was a lot of smashing going on.” Gwaine paused and looked around the chamber. He seemed like he was surprised to see some things back in place. “That’s funny . . . I could have sworn that was broken last night,” Gwaine muttered before he continued with the story. “So, anyway, he was royally pissed and was breaking your things so I figured, ‘hey, he could probably use a drink.’ I thought he’d turn me down, but nope. I got Merlin drunk off some wine and then, Merlin, you got Arthur totally smashed in no time. It was like magic! And then you two were snogging like, ‘til the death type combat, I mean tongues everywhere!” Gwaine paused again, whether for emphasis or necessity, Arthur wasn’t quite sure, but he gestured for the knight to continue because kissing Merlin was not what Arthur needed to be thinking about. “In front of everyone, I might add! That’s all I remember from last night. Then I had that really weird dream, and I woke up with that amazing creature pulling me out of a well by my hair!”

Merlin and Arthur both stayed quiet a bit too long. Both of them absently looked around the chamber. Arthur had no clue what Merlin could’ve been thinking. Arthur himself was stuck somewhere between picturing George and Gaius’ reactions to his and Merlin’s um, _combat_. Arthur shivered at his own thoughts, but he recovered before Merlin did and demanded, “The dream, Gwaine, tell us.”

“Oh Gods,” Gwaine groaned. “I’m already scarred, please don’t make me live through it again.”

“Did you see the dead army too?” Arthur questioned.

“Dead—what?” Gwaine replied, but he was already shaking his head. “No . . . nothing like that.”


	9. Chapter 9

Gwaine looked out over the shore . . . the water looked purple under the setting sun.

He could feel the sand between his toes, but it was like all other life was sucked from the land around him. There was no noise or movement, even the air around him felt absent of any entity. He knew before it happened that he wasn’t entirely alone. He'd felt a small prick, a radiation that alerted him to the presence of another. 

A great shadow emerged from the water then. It grew larger and larger, but even as it became more definitive, Gwaine could not place what it was that grew from the otherwise still water. Although, he felt no need to flee in the face of it.

It swooped and blocked out the setting sun, but the light didn’t dim so much as it seemed to burst even more under its tent. Then Gwaine could see them; the figures that were at the top of the shadow.

Merlin and Arthur were there, and Arthur he was . . . was . . .

Oh Gods, now Gwaine knew that was somehow wrong. Gwaine had always known Arthur was a princess but that’s . . . that was. 

Physically impossible. Right?

_Right?_

Merlin held up the small baby that Arthur had just managed to pop out and Gwaine stared, completely traumatized as his friend held it up. It was sparkling a bit in the sunlight.

He didn’t know how long he'd stood taking in the sight, but Gwaine only tore his eyes away when he'd felt something smack his shoulder. He looked down to see an apple rolling away. He felt another thump, this time on his lower back. He turned around to find a red cape whipping in the wind and a figure running into the woods behind him. 

_Find me, Gwaine_ , a voice said.

Gwaine looked back, and the beach was gone. He picked up the apple and took off after the figure . . .


	10. Chapter 10

“. . . and that is all I remember,” Gwaine finished.

Nobody moved for a good minute. They were all at the table now. The light flapping of Aithusa wings were the only thing that broke the otherwise complete silence.

“Okay . . .” Arthur finally spoke through the awkward calm. He absently stared at the stone wall behind Gwaine’s head. “After we fix this, we will never . . . and I mean never speak of that ever again. Is that understood?”

Arthur finally took his eyes off of the grey stone so that he could see Merlin and Gwaine both frantically nod their heads in agreement.

“Good,” Arthur sighed, and walked across the room to start pulling his saddlebag and other supplies out of his wardrobe. Aithusa followed him closely, flew just above his head, and then perched herself on top of the wardrobe. “Go and ready your own things then . . . but stick together . . . Aithusa and I will stop by the kitchens to grab some provisions. You two swing by the armory and collect some weapons – make sure Merlin has something suitable as well, Gwaine, we have no idea what we’ll be up against. I’ll meet you at the stables.”

Arthur was already moving back and forth across his chambers stuffing his saddle bag full of things that he might need; an extra pair of clothes, extra flints, a few daggers—

“What the bloody hell?!” Merlin shouted and only then did Arthur look up and see the pure horror written across Merlin’s face. “You are actually capable of packing for yourself! Since when!?”

With the awkwardness suddenly broken, Arthur smirked. “You were my first full time manservant, _Mer_ lin, I did a lot of things by myself before I had you.”

The words seemed to make no sense to Merlin, and Arthur would have laughed if he wasn’t so worried. Although he did smile briefly when he caught Merlin mouthing the words to himself like he couldn’t even fathom them being in a sentence together.

“Where are we headed?” Gwaine asked. “I mean, you two said you have no idea what happened . . . so why leave if we don’t even know what we’re looking for?”

_You will only find what you seek._

The words hit Arthur like a heavy blow to the back of his head and he dropped the saddle bag almost instantly to clutch at his skull. The vision came back in full force, and Arthur felt more than a need to save them this time. He felt panicked; he felt rushed.

The woman raised an arm, and Arthur felt like he had to squint to be able to see that she held up three slender fingers. A flash of lightning suddenly rushed from the sky and hit the ground right next to her.

Once Arthur could see again, he saw that she only held up two fingers now. He heard it before he saw it. The sound of rushing water. He looked to his right to see a wave of clear blue water rush by them. It didn’t affect Arthur or the woman, but when Arthur could see clearly again he saw that all the bodies at her feet had been washed away. She only held up one finger now.

_Find me_ , she insisted yet again. _We’re running out of time._

Her last finger retreated at the same time Arthur felt the white hot spike of flames again.

He opened his eyes and all he saw was Merlin’s concerned face.

“Arthur?” Merlin was saying, “You’re okay, right?” and then Arthur registered the hands on him, checking him over. “It was just another vision?”

Arthur backed away from his servant’s grip and fell onto the bed with a huff. He felt a little better when Aithusa fluttered down next to him and placed her head across his thigh. He absently stroked her scales as he relayed the latest memory.

“I . . . she was there again, the woman in black. She never took her veil off, so I couldn’t see her eyes, but . . . it’s so strange, I feel more rushed each time. More scared. But not of the woman . . . I feel like I need to save her. I don’t think she’s what is causing all this. She keeps telling me, ‘find me’ . . . or ‘we’re running out of time’ . . . or ‘you will only seek what you find.”

Arthur paused; he was trying to think of way to describe the lightning and stuff. Merlin took the opportunity and spoke up. “So . . . what made you think that you needed to save her?”

“It was just a feeling,” Arthur said, at a loss for a better way to explain it. “I felt like it was my duty . . . and she felt—she felt familiar. Very familiar. Then there was . . .”

Arthur held up three fingers and explained how each had fallen after the lightening, water, and before the fire came. “But it was so, so strange . . . the water wiped everyone out . . . but they were all miserable or dead already, so all I felt then was relief.”

Merlin hummed a bit. He wore a look that had Arthur hopeful despite himself. Merlin then pulled the stone out of his pocket and started studying it again. Arthur watched as two of Merlin’s long fingers traced the markings that were carved into it.

“Maybe . . .” Merlin said, mostly to himself. Then louder, “maybe we already knew something bad was going to happen last night . . . maybe we had already found a way to stop it?”

“Well, we will never know until we figure out a way to remember,” Gwaine said. “Which brings me back to my original point, princess, where do you suggest we start?”

“We’ll check the lower town,” Arthur explained, he’d already decided this, but Merlin never asked him to explain himself anymore. They had a weird sort of understanding when it came to plans. They were either silently on the same page from the start or they vocally weren’t. “And then, we’ll search the forest outlining it . . . it’s rather unlikely, but I think we need to make sure everyone didn’t just leave to hide from an attack or something. Though I have a feeling this is the work of sorcery, some kind of curse. In that case, our only option will be to hunt the source of it down. Hopefully killing her--or him--will be enough to break the curse.”


	11. Chapter 11

Gwaine and Merlin left to gather their own things. Arthur was left alone with Aithusa, who was still lying contently with her neck stretched across his lap. Arthur needed time to think now that he was alone, so he allowed himself a few minutes to relish in the feel of her scales against his fingers before he sighed and declared, “Alright, little one, we better get going.”

She yawned lazily, but was off in a flash of white a second later and zoomed around Arthur’s chamber. Arthur got up too, walked to the closet, and decided he would change into different boots. He located his armor and threw it on before he returned to the bed to pick up his saddle bag from where he’d dropped it earlier. Arthur bent down to pick it up, but just as he stood something from under the bed caught his eye and had him halting.

He bent down further so he could get a better look under the bed. Arthur saw that all his gold had somehow spilled out, and he noticed a few other items out of place, and a few items he’d never seen before. He ignored the mess completely and reached out for the unfamiliar items: a strange book and a little glass vial.

As soon as he’d brought the vial up to study it, Aithusa swooped down and hovered right above him. It took Arthur a few seconds to realize that the new expression she wore was astonishment. Once he had, though, Arthur asked, “What is it?”

“Water!” Aithusa declared, before she giggled and took off again.

“ _Water_ ,” Arthur repeated to the empty air that she left in her wake. “ _Right_ . . .”

Arthur glared between the zooming white blob and the ‘water’ a few more times before he gently set the vial down and reached for the book. Arthur flipped the cover open and sighed instantly. It only took one glance for Arthur to know that the book was written in the old language.

Arthur shut the book. _Gods, my father must be so proud of me right now._

After opening that particular floodgate, Arthur would’ve gotten lost in thought if Aithusa hadn’t landed on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “But papa and Aithusa wouldn’t love mama as much if mama were like _Uffer_.”

Arthur turned his head to look at her and saw that she gave him an impressively stern look. He couldn’t believe that something could sound so wise coming from someone who referred to themselves in the third person.

“Once this is all over, Aithusa,” Arthur started, “I’m going to hire you a private tutor . . . obviously you’re brother isn’t teaching you how to speak correctly.”

She just looked at him, her head tilted slightly to the side. It took a moment but Arthur realized what he just promised her. The image of Aithusa chasing his old tutor, Lainea, around the west wing of the castle flashed through his mind. Arthur couldn’t believe how easy it was to picture it, how right it felt . . . then Arthur did something unexpected. 

He laughed for the first time all day.

He laughed and laughed, because he was maybe missing his whole kingdom, he was maybe on the verge of undermining everything his father worked for . . . hell, Arthur might have been planning the ride to his death. Might have been planning two of his best friend’s death rides as well. He literally hadn’t a clue, but he laughed because he’d just had a revelation of vast proportion.

At the time, it seemed endlessly huge. It was life-changing. To the day he died, Arthur swore that he felt the ground shift from under him a little bit.

Arthur realized that he was truly _thankful_ for Merlin’s treason . . . and he now saw perfectly what that treason was. Merlin had rescued the dragon egg from the Tomb of Ashkanar, and somehow managed to connect it with another dragon somewhere who’d hatched her. It was such a Merlin thing to do, too. So in Arthur’s mind there was no denying it. And Gods, was Arthur ever thankful. Even though he was still hurt by Merlin’s deception, he’d felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Arthur knew that he probably wouldn’t have done the same thing if he’d been the one to find her egg, but now, Gods, now that he’d seen her, seen all her beautiful innocence, Arthur was convinced that Merlin had made the right decision.

A high-pitched giggle escaped Arthur’s throat as he remembered how he’d contemplated the lumpy fullness of Merlin’s bag. He’d just thought the servant was hoarding food. In his defense, Merlin had a bad habit of doing that . . . whether it was for Arthur’s well being or not was not the point.

Arthur felt hope then. Hope that Merlin could still be the man Arthur needed so badly at his side.

He was also thankful that there were fewer secrets between him and Merlin, and he felt content that things were falling back into place. There would be no more life-shattering discoveries for a while, Arthur decided . . .

Little did he know, that that revelation was merely the first one of the many to come. The first, and the smallest, most insignificant revelation that he would have on this day. The longest day of his life.

As Arthur was finally able to push the laughter away, he came to with a giddy looking Aithusa staring at him. She pecked him in on the nose with her strange little lips and then was nothing but a white blur. Arthur brought the tips of his fingers to his nose for a moment, and then stood up and dusted himself off before he wrapped the vial up in a shirt and shoved it in his bag. Aithusa flew by him as he was going to shove the book in there too and he fumbled it, but managed to catch it by the cover. It was not Arthur’s fault the thing was so bloody ancient that it ripped.

The pages flew everywhere though, and Arthur cursed and hurried to pick them up, but Aithusa stopped him when she said, “Papa won’t need that.”

Arthur looked down at the mess and decided that yes, Merlin could just clean it up later. Just as he was about to go, though, Arthur caught sight of a drawing on the floor that looked just like the stone Merlin found. He grabbed it and upon closer examination he found that it was sloppily drawn onto the back of a cloth, but it was without a doubt a likeness of the stone. It didn’t look to be part of the book so Arthur figured they must have tucked it in the pages the night before. Arthur flipped it over, so he could see what was on the other side, but it was meaningless to him.

It wasn’t until Arthur was in the hallway that he had his second revelation of the day.

“Aithusa,” Arthur gasped. “You just read my bloody mind back there, didn’t you!?”


	12. Chapter 12

Merlin felt lost even though he’d walked those same corridors a thousand times before. If it weren’t for Gwaine leading the way, Merlin would have made a wrong turn minutes ago. He tried to focus on the sound of Gwaine’s voice as he babbled, or the scuff of Gwaine’s boots as he walked, but it was all in vain. All that played in his mind’s eye was a constant still of the look on Arthur’s face when Merlin explained he was a traitor.

He couldn’t make sense of anything, his mind was muddled up, and his magic was on the fritz. It thrummed impatiently along the surface of his skin. When he woke that had been his first indicator that something wasn’t right.

When they finally reached the armory, Merlin and Gwaine both made quick work of packing their weaponry. Merlin only paused once; it was as he pulled a sword from the rack and caught his own reflection.

He briefly glanced behind himself and made sure Gwaine wasn’t paying attention before he let his magic go, just a small shining spell. He watched as his eyes flared gold, and suddenly felt sick.

Merlin stared until the gold swirled and started to fade.

Right as the last of the golden hue drained from his eyes, Merlin felt a strong presence, and heard a sudden booming laugh sound from behind him. He whipped around, dropping the sword on the way. By the time the metal clattered against the stone floor Merlin’s arm was raised and ready to fight, but there was no one there.

Gwaine walked over looking concerned and he seemed unaffected by the sound. When he went to lay a hand on Merlin’s shoulder another loud cackle filled the armory. It came from behind again that time, and Merlin whipped around once more.

He caught a blur of yellow and red and a bit of brown curls, but then the presence was gone entirely, and Merlin dropped his hand with a huff. He turned to find Gwaine looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Merlin muttered an apology and picked up the dropped sword.

Merlin felt better than he had before because he now had a presence, something solid for his magic to focus on. He knew the enemy lurked, and that was at least a starting place. He wasn’t so lost. Maybe if he could fix this then things wouldn’t have to change more than they already had.

Merlin took off toward the kitchens without a word, Gwaine flailing to follow behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

Merlin sent Arthur a smirk when Arthur reached the stables. It was cheeky and Arthur thought about kissing it off, if only to see the expression on Merlin’s face afterward. But no, Arthur wasn’t allowed to just . . . go there. Even if they’d went way further than that last night.

Apparently the two of them had been waiting awhile for Arthur to show. Arthur could tell because all of their things were already packed and ready go. Merlin hurried over to meet Arthur and relieved him of his bag.

“Did you make it to the kitchens, sire?” Merlin asked and Arthur groaned.

Arthur was just about to turn back around when Merlin grabbed his wrist and stopped him. He pulled a bag off of his horse and smirked wider. “We’re good.”

Merlin held out the bag, and Arthur could see the contents were bread and dried meat . . . and then, Arthur really couldn’t say what happened . . . but somehow he _was_ suddenly kissing the smirk right off Merlin’s face.

It was chaste and dry and awkward, and too soon they broke apart at Gwaine’s loud groan.

“Uh . . .” Merlin said.

“I’m not mad about Aithusa,” Arthur blurted in response. _Smooth_ , he thought before he continued. “Um. I mean, thank you. I think you did the right thing. I don’t know if I would have, and . . . I just thought . . .”

Arthur trailed off because Merlin had started to look steadily more horrified with each word that Arthur spoke.

“Right,” Arthur hissed, and started to stalk off toward his horse. “Of course.”

“Wait, Arthur,” Merlin said, and it wasn’t until he continued that Arthur turned back around to face him. “I . . . look, I know you probably won’t believe me because of how I acted this morning but having you, like that, is really the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I never thought—I mean—I just never thought it would actually happen . . . and I only reacted so badly, because that wasn’t the way I ever wanted it to happen,” Arthur opened his mouth to apologize, but Merlin cut him off, “I just—there are so many things you needed to know before we ever—before I even thought about going there.”

“Did you not just hear me, Merlin?” Arthur asked. “I’m fine with your treason—”

Merlin started to protest, “But—“

“No buts, I trust you,” Arthur said.

Merlin got that lemon face again; Arthur couldn’t help but find it a bit cute that time.

“Now . . . look what I found . . .”


	14. Chapter 14

The symbol on the other side of the cloth turned out to be from a tavern, apparently . . . so of course, Gwaine knew exactly where it was located. After their search of the lower town and some of the woods came up fruitless, they all agreed to start toward the tavern.

Aithusa flew above Arthur mostly. She swooped down randomly sometimes which annoyed his horse; the glint Arthur saw in her eye told him that she knew exactly what she was doing, too. Every so often she would fly over to Merlin and ruffle herself in Merlin’s hair until the servant’s mop was mussed beyond fixing. It reminded him of how Morgana would so shamelessly pull and tug and bury herself in the king’s royal wardrobe when she was a child. An eerie chill of remembrance washed over him at these thoughts. Girls were so odd. Especially Morgana. Arthur abruptly pushed all thoughts of his half-sister away. He hadn’t thought about her this much in months, and now was not the time for Arthur to dwell in the past.

Only half an hour into the trip, Aithusa started to yawn. Arthur was surprised when she fluttered down gracefully in front of his saddle. She promptly wrapped her wings around his horse’s neck then fell asleep.

Arthur knew she seemed to take a liking to him right away, but what he really couldn’t figure out was why she had. Merlin was the one who saved her, hatched her, so in Arthur’s logic she should trust the servant more. And besides that, she was smart. Way smarter than one would think. Hell, she could bloody read minds! She knew about Uther even, so why would she feel so safe snuggling up with him?

Not that it was a bad thing or anything. Arthur actually found it quite . . . comforting.

Or something.

However, Arthur had no clue how to state his concerns without sounding silly, so he thought for a moment then asked, “Why do you think she calls us mother and father?”

Gwaine let out a loud bark of laughter and Arthur instantly looked over his shoulder and scowled at the knight. He gestured to the sleeping dragon as he held Gwaine under a warning gaze. Gwaine’s eyes filled with even more gleeful mirth, but he managed to snicker quietly at least.

Arthur turned to Merlin once he was satisfied. The servant wore a thoughtful expression as he replied, “I don’t know, honestly. That one has me stumped.”

Arthur snorted softly and rose a playful brow at Merlin. “What? And the rest doesn’t?”

Arthur expected Merlin to scowl or frown. Or, really, Arthur expected Merlin to do anything besides what he did, which was blush deeply then try and hide it by looking away. The action had Arthur subconsciously tugging on his reins a bit so he could be closer to Merlin. As soon as he realized what he was doing Arthur stopped and started to blush himself.

Honestly, first with the bloody kiss and now this. What in the Gods’ green earth was going on with him? It was just Merlin for crying out loud.

And who was Arthur kidding? Really, Merlin was never just _Merlin_ to Arthur, and as Arthur stared at Merlin’s sharp, pinked cheekbones he really couldn’t be arsed to lie to himself about that anymore.

In the most primal of ways, Arthur felt the start of something heavy and final falling into place.

A few moments passed, in which nobody really moved besides the horses, then Merlin seemed to realize that he should be calling Arthur a name or studiously ignoring him or something and blushed even harder before he cleared his throat.

“It’s not like you’ve figured anything out either, _your highness_ ,” Merlin drawled.

“I wasn’t making fun, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said. He used a tone that he’d always wanted to use with Merlin. It was a tad too light and playful to be appropriate, and he usually stopped himself from teasing Merlin with it. “I was just asking.”

“Asking, huh?” Merlin smirked as he fell back into his usual posture again. Arthur didn’t miss the fact that Merlin’s cheeks hadn’t lost any of their flush, though.

“But honestly,” Arthur started. “You are responsible for her, you should know these things, _Mer_ lin.”

“I—what?” Merlin stuttered. He looked so aghast suddenly. Arthur found it cute, too, for some unknown reason. “I don’t—like—I mean.” Merlin cut himself off and looked away from Arthur before he squeaked out, “What in the hell would make you think _that_?”

“You saved her, hatched her . . . did you not?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about—”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said. “There is nothing to talk about. I already know about that, right? So it was just a question.”

Merlin stayed quiet for a while but eventually he sighed, defeated. “Yes . . . I suppose I’m responsible for her in a way, then. But I’ve only met her the one time before today, and she didn’t call me ‘papa’ then. I have no clue what changed.”

Arthur hummed. An easy silence filled the air around them, until Arthur broke it.

“We must have had some night then, huh?” Arthur asked. “I mean, I always knew you and Gwaine were capable of such,” Arthur waved a hand around vaguely, “ _nonsense_. What with the way you two hang around the tavern it’s a wonder you haven’t managed to do something incredibly stupid like acquire a baby dragon or lose my entire kingdom before.”

“Hey!” Merlin squawked in outrage.

Gwaine merely laughed and said, “I am much too good at dice to lose—wait did you just say Merlin? Like, Merlin at the tavern?”

Arthur eyed Gwaine over his shoulder and snorted. “Why yes, Gwaine, Merlin is the only person I know besides you that actually manages to get lost in that dreadful place for days at a time.”

“Are you okay, princess?” Gwaine asked slowly. “Merlin doesn’t drink. I can barely even—”

“Gwaine,” Merlin warned, and Gwaine instantly snapped his mouth shut and looked at toward servant.

It was almost comical how Gwaine would bend over backwards for Merlin without a second thought. Yet the knight still couldn’t follow anyone else’s damn orders to save his life.

_Almost_ being the important word there. It was _almost_ funny to Arthur. As in Arthur could fake a smile and laugh about it when the other knights teased Gwaine for it, but that was the extent of the amusement in Arthur’s eyes.

“What?” Arthur asked harshly. Gwaine just looked back to Arthur and shrugged. Arthur sighed. “Of course.”

Merlin sent him an apologetic look. He really wanted to stay mad, but for some reason Merlin was still bloody flushing and it was impossible.


	15. Chapter 15

When they were nearly there, Gwaine’s horse suddenly slowed pace, and both Arthur and Merlin slowed so they could turn and look at him. The knight’s eyes were glazed over, pointed toward the forest floor, and he wore a loose frown on his face. Merlin didn’t waste any time, he just trotted over and supported Gwaine with a sigh, like the behavior was normal. Arthur did a quick sweep of the trees that surrounded them to make sure no danger lurked nearby before he called out to Merlin,

“What in the hell is wrong with him?”

Merlin smirked. “He’s having a vision.”

“How do you—wait,” Arthur stopped and glared at Merlin, who was still smirking. He raised a skeptical brow and asked, “That’s what I look like, isn’t it?”

“Oh no, sire . . .” Merlin shook his head, overly aghast, and for a second Arthur almost believed him to be sincere. Just for a second. “You look much more ridiculous.”

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur drawled out, and he knew it was pathetic. Comebacks were never his strong suit, but he was the king, so it all evened out in the end. “Should we try to wake him?”

“I’m not sure . . . probably not,” Merlin said. “I mean, we want him to remember right? Besides you snapped out of them after a few moments.”

As if on cue, Gwaine slumped, and Merlin grabbed him tight before he fell off the horse. The knight blinked slowly as he scanned the forest around them, like he was looking for something. His loose lips quickly morphed into a hard frown.

“Gwaine . . .” Merlin said hesitantly, and something inside Arthur suddenly made him hyper-aware of the interaction in front of him. It was like something burst low in the pit of his chest, dripped down, and lined his insides with warmth. The feeling was so different from the low burning, uneasy one that Arthur was used to feeling when he looked at those two that it stunned him.

Arthur tried to shake the awareness away, but he couldn’t even blink, he was just stuck staring.

Arthur had never been particularly jealous of Gwaine or anything, but he’d had a few passing urges to comment on the inappropriateness of his and Merlin’s relationship. Arthur understood that they were friends in ways that Merlin never was with the other knights, but Arthur felt that Merlin shouldn’t _do_ things for Gwaine.

Merlin was Arthur’s servant, after all. It was just, yes. Inappropriate. That was what it was.

But, for the first time, Arthur realized how different their interactions really were compared to Arthur’s own interactions with Merlin. Sure, Merlin joked around with Gwaine, told him off, stood up for him, and other stuff just like he did for Arthur, but Arthur saw that there was a difference.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different, and he narrowed his eyes on the scene. Merlin looked concerned, he did, but there was something missing. It was just an absence in Merlin’s eyes. In the air maybe. The thing that was missing wasn’t really on the surface, but Arthur could still tell it was gone.

Arthur was hit with an odd sensation of deja-vu. Like he'd felt this same feeling before, even though he was sure he hadn't.

Suddenly, Arthur blinked and realized there was a conversation already partaking in front of him. Gwaine was still leaning against Merlin, but he was grinning and talking with his hands once again.

And just like that the feeling was gone.

Arthur frowned.

“—you’re fine, Gwaine,” Merlin was saying as he swatted at the knight playfully—Gods, he was such a girl—then Merlin suddenly pushed off and trotted away. Gwaine flailed, but managed not to fall on his face.

Not that Arthur wished that that would happen or something.

Nope.

Merlin trotted over to Arthur, and slipped by him with a smirk.

Arthur just sighed as he tugged on the reins and then started after Merlin. His mind was reeling, and the pit of his stomach felt much the same. He was in the midst of the worst situation in his life, yet Arthur still somehow felt hopeful and prideful and all these _other_ things that he shouldn’t. The strangest part was that that wasn’t the first time Arthur had thought about blue eyes staring into suns or loud mouths that only shut up when they were smirking and instantly felt lighter, safer on the inside. It had happened every time since they’d met. When the servant was around, Arthur felt as if no situation could bring him down.

He had somehow anchored himself to Merlin. And he didn’t even know when it had happened. Sometimes he thought that it might’ve happened the first time they met. When Arthur stepped into Merlin’s personal space and grabbed his wrist. Maybe even before that. When Arthur stepped forward as he brought up a hand to block out the sun, and found Merlin standing there staring back at him.

Deep down he knew he wasn’t supposed to mess that up. Ever. For anything. He hoped he hadn’t more than anything. And that was scary. Considering Arthur’s current list of problems, his relationship with his servant shouldn’t even be on his radar. But for some reason Arthur had a feeling that as long as everything was okay between them, then nothing else would go wrong, and they would fix things.

“What’dya see, Gwaine?” Merlin was asking when Arthur tuned back in.

“Well . . . it was . . . very strange,” Gwaine said after a moment. “Percival was there. He kept throwing apples at me and then running away. And there were all these strange noises coming from the woods.”

“What were you feeling?” Merlin then asked.

“Suspense, dread,” Gwaine said instantly. “I wanted nothing more than to catch him. I needed to know why, I felt.”

Merlin hummed, already lost deep in thought.

“Have you no visions, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“Uh . . . no,” Merlin said. “I felt so strange when I woke up this morning, though—”

“What about in the armory?” Gwaine asked.

“I just heard something,” Merlin admitted.

Arthur frowned. He had a series of questions on the tip of his tongue, but managed to keep his curiosity at bay. Arthur saw Merlin’s walls close around the servant, any emotion Merlin felt besides determination was wiped away.

Arthur knew questioning Merlin’s stubborn arse now would've been pointless.


	16. Chapter 16

Almost as soon as they’d reached their destination and had tied up their horses, a woman’s voice rang out, “Oi! King Arthur and his lovely consort! Back to save us from the forces of evil again so soon?”

Arthur glanced over at the woman and winced. She looked positively thrilled at their arrival. She bounced, all red and plump looking, as she fisted excited sausage fingers threw her large skirts. Once the oddity of the sight of her dwindled, Arthur caught on to her words. He gaped at her, dumbfounded, as they sunk in.

“Um,” Merlin said while Gwaine let out a howl of laughter. His laughing woke Aithusa up and the dragon shot up off the horse, she blinked furiously and looked horribly confused. Arthur felt much the same.

Arthur scowled and walked over to greet the woman. Aithusa followed him and the lady eyed her warily. The dragon was unconcerned, continued to sleepily flap over Arthur’s head.

Once Arthur explained the situation the barmaid said she would tell them everything that happened last night if they agreed to come in to have a few drinks.

“Well,” she finally started after they’d turned down her third attempt of ale and instead accepted a few mugs of water. Gwaine had still eyed the barrel of mead of course, but after a quick glare from Merlin he'd took the water, too. They leaned against the bar and listened as she continued. “The two of you," she pointed at Merlin and Arthur, "came in here just as it was gettin’ dark outside. At first we had no clue who you were, just thought you was a couple a young lads who came in to snog it up in one of our booths . . . a couple a folk out to have a good time.

“But . . . then this woman came and started killin’ folk.” She pointed out the large blood stains on the floor before she continued. “You two both seemed to know her, I think . . . although she did sorcery and you both seemed surprised by that. That’s when you, sire, announced that you were the king of Camelot and that your court sorcerer would destroy her. Nobody believed you, because really? The king of Camelot having a sorcerer in his court? It was unheard of! But then you,” she pointed to Merlin, “You were amazing! It was the greatest display I’ve ever seen!

“The candles were flaring, the air was crackling . . . and I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes, but I swear to you! You formed a creature out of some kind of blue light . . . it had the body of a deer almost, but a pair of wings and heads like a swan. Two heads, that is.”

She finished with a wide smile that showed off too many of her crooked teeth. Everyone was silent after that. Arthur stared at the woman’s redden swell of a face and was about to label the story as crazy until Merlin’s brow furrowed slightly and he mouthed the words ‘two heads’ to himself.

And suddenly Arthur couldn’t deny it . . . conjuring a deformed swan was such a _Mer_ lin thing to do.

As was being a sorcerer in the absolute worst place to be one, Arthur belatedly—way-latedly—realized.

Arthur’s life made sense suddenly, and somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledged that fact and stored it away for later use, but through the fog of betrayal that took Arthur, he could barely see, let alone think straight.


	17. Chapter 17

“Right . . . so much for the element of mystery thing I had going on,” Merlin muttered to himself.

The servant pointedly looked down at his feet and the movement broke Arthur from the stupor the woman’s tale left him in, and he followed the gaze. Arthur’s eyes landed on the worn out leather that covered Merlin’s feet, and he suddenly felt more lost than he’d ever remembered being before.

Arthur could feel himself gaping, but he didn’t care to try and stop it. This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense to him. Those damned boots . . . they had been everywhere. They were worn thin from the harsh Camelot stone. They were stained and nicked from the paths through Camelot’s woods. They helped carry Arthur’s laundry to the washroom. They stood close the heat and stoked Arthur’s fire. They walked Arthur his three daily meals. They trotted up thousands of steps to carry Arthur’s bath water. Those boots were always standing next to him, by his side, taking care of him.

_Protecting him._

Arthur’s vision started to cloud and the boots grew hazy under his intense gaze.

Images of the writhing bodies of Camelot’s knights flashed through his head, but he shook them off. Now was not the time. If this was what he was trying to remember, Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to. Ever.

“You’re a sorcerer,” Arthur stated flatly. Even to his own ears, Arthur’s voice sounded disconnected and foreign. 

Merlin sighed, and though Arthur didn’t dare take his eyes off the brown boots, he could still see the way Merlin sagged a bit out of the corner of his eye, as if servant had finally given in.

“No need to avoid the inevitable, I guess.”

Weird. Merlin still sounded exactly the same. Voice a little scratchy but otherwise completely normal, smooth and musical to Arthur’s ears. Just how it’d always been since the day Arthur first heard it . . . maybe a little deeper, but that was it.

Arthur didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe for Merlin to start spurting out spells in the old language. Or maybe for Merlin to sound cold and twisted in the blink of an eye. All he knew was that he wasn’t expecting that voice and, as the familiar sound was spoken, Arthur felt forced to look up. Arthur felt he needed to see that it really was that same Merlin he’d always known.

But . . . he couldn’t make himself look up. Merlin was . . . was Merlin. Arthur’s lazy, brave, idiot of a manservant, who wore scratchy clothes and old leather boots. Merlin ate Arthur’s leftovers and cleaned his wounds and picked up his messes. Merlin was always there, had always been there. Merlin stood by him, helped him make the right decisions. Merlin stopped him from doing stupid things, or followed behind him head first into the stupidity. Arthur did it, he looked up, and Merlin was . . .

_Merlin._

It was Merlin, looking the same as he always did. His hair a little ruffled from the windy ride over, his neckerchief ever present and slightly askew, his long limbs that seemed to be forever covered in the same old clothes.

But, no . . . Merlin wasn’t _Merlin_ , apparently, because the next thing out of his mouth was, “Technically I’m a warlock, sire.”

Arthur stared.

After a minute of deep deliberation he decided that yes, it had to be Merlin, because nobody else could possibly be _so bloody stupid._

Arthur was too busy having his third revelation of the day while staring at his manservant in disbelief to see the weird look the barmaid sent him. She let Arthur have his few minutes in awkward silence before she cleared her throat and started, “If I may, sire, I’d like to point out how you knew all of this last night . . . you even announced that everyone here was, well . . .” the barmaid, trailed off, seemed to Arthur as if she was looking for the right words. “You invited everyone here to your wedding, sire. I am just positive that is what you said! Said you were so proud to be marrying the greatest sorcerer who ever walked the earth . . . said you just couldn’t wait any longer to do, even! Told the whole bar to follow you back to Camelot—”

“What!?” Merlin squeaked and the barmaid merely smiled wider.

“That was exactly your face when the king made the announcement last night!” The barmaid cheered. “You said that no wedding was taking place unless it was a magical friendly one . . . said that you had to see the Lady of the Lake first—”

“Right,” Merlin said, loudly and nearly hysteric, which effectively cut the woman off. “Because why in the hell _not_?”


	18. Chapter 18

Unsurprisingly, Gwaine was the first to recover. He looked completely undisturbed by the knowledge, a bit gleeful even. “Who? Merlin, who was it?!” He begged to know.

Arthur couldn’t function, let alone speak. Merlin didn’t even seem to hear Gwaine. He was focused completely on Arthur, and Arthur couldn’t pull his eyes away either.

As he stared blankly at Merlin the weight of discovery bore down on him and Arthur suddenly needed to get away. He knew he had nowhere to go, knew that he had no kingdom to return to, but he needed out that very instant. He had to get away from Merlin. Arthur couldn’t just stand there and look him in the eye. He refused. He should order Merlin, make the servant— _sorcerer_ —flee from his sight. Arthur knew Gwaine would hold no qualms about following right after Merlin, and then where would Arthur be? He’d be left all alone anyway, with only squishy barmaid as his company.

So, Arthur did the only logical thing that he could think of at the time; he turned and he stalked away. He wasn’t aware that he’d started to run until he’d reached his horse and was forced to stop. Merlin and Gwaine’s voices were loud behind him. Merlin pleaded while Gwaine just yelled, but Arthur couldn’t make out individual words. Just a mess of noises. Pointless sounds.

Once he’d mounted his horse, he noticed the light flapping sound overhead and slowed down so he could look up at Aithusa who was flying over him.

“Do not follow me, Aithusa,” Arthur warned her, but when he went to take off again, the dragon didn’t listen. Arthur pulled on the reins and turned his horse. Aithusa stopped right above him with wide eyes full of tears. Arthur drew his sword and pointed it at her before emphasizing, “Do. Not. Follow. Me.”

She screeched and flew back in horror, but Arthur was already gone.

**~ — ~**

Not so far from there, deep in the forest, the woman in black leaned her head against the hard cave wall behind her.

The women hunched over where she sat on the cold stone; the magic inside her fought hard to mend the wounds that covered her abdomen despite the cuffs around her wrists that tried to hold it in. Her long, black hair was forever wavy, but matted and clumped with her suffering.

Though her locks hung long and heavy around her face, she could still peer through them, but all she saw was the flicker of shadows along the stony walls; the product of the fire that blazed around the corner. It lent her no warmth. She sometimes heard a strange tongue being spoken all around her, but her captors had stayed hidden from view since she’d been caught.

She did not need to see their faces to know who was responsible for this.

She was dizzy, and her body wanted to shut itself down. A steady darkness crept along the edges of her mind’s eye. She only stayed conscious because every so often the voices would stop, and familiar laughter would ring through cave. The sound would strike her with anger before a chilling force would blast through the air.

As she winced against the strangeness in the air, she wondered how she managed to meet such an end. It could have started long before, at her birth even, but in her state all she knew for sure was that everything had taken a drastic spin last night.

The woman had rode out to the Valley of the Fallen Kings to meet someone who claimed they had a way to help her acquire the throne of Camelot. The woman had lost her only family and many of her friends. The only person that she could truly count on anymore was her brother’s uncle, a man who was daft more than he was bright, and most of the time creepy. Her faith in him had been wavering as of late, so she rode out with great hope and purpose to meet another person who held the same dream as she did.

Morgana did not expect the person to be as powerful as her, because there weren’t many who were, but she was surprised to find that the woman she met there hadn’t even been a witch. Morgana couldn’t sense an ounce of pure magic in the other. Only a small trace of magic left over from her past attempts at sorcery lingered still.

In the face of the other woman’s blatant stolen skills, Morgana remembered how she’d held off a sneer. The memory of her late sister’s words on the subject had rung through her head. Morgause found the thefts petty and distasteful. Once, when times were safe, Morgause warned her about their true capabilities in a late night conversation.

Gods, Morgana should have listened. She should have stabbed the insane girl when she had the chance.

At the time though, Morgana had been angry that she’d ridden so far for nothing. She’d thought the sorceress didn’t have the power to do any real damage.

She had been so, so desperately wrong. All it took was one spell. Lengthy and ancient, but one all the same.

She taunted when should have killed, and now the throne of Camelot was nearly lost to all. Not Morgana, nor Arthur, nor even the Higher Gods reigned over it now. She held nearly no hope of this evil being defeated, and even less of her surviving through this war.

Morgana closed her eyes and pushed the memories of thick, black smoke and gurgled screams out of her mind.

_Non timbo mala_ , she thought over and over again.


	19. Chapter 19

Merlin was stunned as he watched Arthur ride away. He stayed in place long after Arthur’s form had disappeared into the trees.

Then he just got mad. At everything. Merlin knew he was being irrational, but he couldn’t help it. When he registered Aithusa screeching, he glared up and demanded she stopped.

Then Merlin screamed. And screamed. In the old language and dragon tongue, a messy mix of both. He screamed until the earth was shaking around him and the sky grew dark. He only stopped when he’d noticed the flecks of lightning spark up the sky.

It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Merlin wasn’t supposed to fail so spectacularly. He’d literally thrown everything he'd ever worked for away. He wasn’t supposed to ruin his own life and bring everyone he cared for down with him.

He fell to his knees under the crushing weight of reality. Everything inside of him hurt. His magic ached. Merlin felt as if he could literally feel Arthur leave, riding further away from him never to return. He’d never seen Arthur so angry and Merlin reasoned the king never wanted to speak to him again. The thought of it had his magic wild. It grew wilder as the distance tore into him. He wasn’t aware that he’d started to cry until he'd let out a choked sob, and even then the feeling felt foreign. In that moment all Merlin could feel was the cold tears as they ran down his cheeks. It felt like he wasn’t really in his body anymore, like he’d sometimes felt when he preformed powerful magic. Only this was worse, like he’d let his magic consume him.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It brought him back a bit, but he still felt disconnected and he had to fight to keep his magic from lashing out, because he knew somewhere in his mind that Gwaine was only trying to be a good friend.

Then, Merlin heard it.

A booming, amused laugh rang through the air and Merlin’s head snapped up and his eyes scanned the treeline. In this fluid state his wild magic felt the sound and he shivered under the sticky, pressing weight of it. When it sounded again behind him, Merlin whipped around and was back on his feet in no time. Not worried about keeping his secret anymore, Merlin already had his arm raised and he eyes were gold. His magic was barely contained, and he had no clue what would happen if he let go, but at this point he couldn’t bring himself to care. He let his eyes burn brighter as he stretched his magic out and searched for the presence. He heard Gwaine gasp as the wave washed over him.

Then suddenly Gwen was right in front of him, grinning widely. Merlin blinked. Both him and his magic were put off by her familiar face. Merlin gaped as he took in her wardrobe. She wore her normal red cloak, but the yellow dress underneath had been nearly torn to shreds. Her chest seemed much more exposed than Merlin had ever seen it, but at least her top half was completely covered. That was more than could be said about her legs, which were thick and smooth and so very exposed. The last thing Merlin needed was to see a Gwen nipple on top of all that. 

Then he noticed that she was literally drenched in dried blood and he thought that a Gwen nipple might have been a bit less traumatizing. 

“Gwen,” Merlin breathed out, but he didn’t drop his arm because he knew something wasn’t right. His magic was much too wary of her for him to find comfort in the familiar face. He was a mix of hesitance and alarm. “What are you doing here?”

That made her look even giddier for some reason, and a booming laugh rang from her throat again.

“Oh, well isn’t this just grand . . .” she drawled, stepping closer. “The warlock doesn’t remember a thing.” She cackled now, and let the excitement she wore on her face leak threw her words. “Does this mean the blondie doesn’t as well?”

“What are you talking about, Gwen?” Merlin hissed.

Gwen’s smile grew even wider. It stretched across her face in the ugliest of ways.

Then something unexpected happened . . . her eyes flashed black. Completely and utterly black.

“How many times do I have to tell you this, blue eyes? Gwen’s not home right now. You’re stuck with little old me.”

Merlin stumbled back. His magic itched to attack, but he held it in.

“So . . . here’s what’s going to happen,” she started as she stalked forward a few more steps. Merlin had never seen Gwen look so predatory before. He belatedly realized that was because it wasn’t Gwen. Everything about her seemed off, wrong. “You’re going to hand over the key . . . and you’re going to flash those pretty eyes of yours and bring every last soul back, and then I might think about letting the golden boy you’re so fond of live, understood?”

He’d read about possession back when they had to deal with Cornelius Sigan, and once it clicked, things started to make a lot more sense. He was looking at Gwen, but she wasn’t even familiar. From her posture to her expressions to the tone of her voice. She was being worn by something that much was clear. What wore her, however, was the question.

Gwen raised an arm, and Merlin’s magic surged toward her before he’d even had a chance to process the threat. Only she was faster. She suddenly made a fist, balled her hand tight and pulled, and Merlin felt like his magic had been grabbed and confined within her grasp. Before he could react, she ripped her arm back and Merlin flew forward. He landed heavily on his knees in front of her.

“You should have never let him out of your sight,” she taunted as she grabbed Merlin up by the neck, hard, and pulled him nearly to his feet. He was inches from her, so close that Gwen’s big brown eyes were the only thing he could see. “Isn’t that what you said last night? Oh yes. That’s right. You don’t remember. You’re making this too easy for me.”

Before Merlin had a chance to answer, he heard a spell whispered in dragon tongue. Merlin gaped as liquid started to pour down on them out of nowhere. A steady flow splattered down on top of Gwen and the excess instantly splashed down on him. She dropped Merlin with a loud cry, and her eyes went all black once again. As Merlin stumbled back and to his feet, he blinked the liquid out of his eyes. The first thing he saw once he could see again was a blur of brown feathers disappear into the treeline. Then he saw that the liquid that magically flowed from the sky looked like water, but as it covered Gwen, whatever it was inside her started to burn and scream.

Merlin didn’t have time to think. His magic was way ahead of him and had already stretched as far as it could searching for Arthur. He absently located Gwaine who was still behind him and grabbed the knight up before he called out to Aithusa to follow after them.

He could still hear Gwen’s screams as they rode off into the woods.


	20. Chapter 20

Arthur raced through the forest. Blurred green around the edges of his vision seemed to consume him, and he nearly gave his horse all lead. He felt like he couldn’t go fast enough or far enough away. There was an ache deep inside him that felt vast and gaping and only grew more prominent. He wanted to beat it, out last it, and leave it behind.

But it stuck with him. The farther he rode the more it hurt. His mind was plagued. Even the heavy stones of his subconscious that had fallen into place that day crashed down.

Arthur thought he knew, thought that he’d known what it was like to feel betrayal, but none of those had been like this.

Those did not feel as if they had split Arthur in two.

Morgana, Guinevere . . . Arthur was suddenly feeling grateful for the ease with which those came, even if he hadn’t thought so at the time. He appreciated it, though. After having felt this betrayal, he welcomed the others. He could not focus singularly on any one thought at this time. At least not clearly. His emotions ran high while his mind lay in a nearly dormant state. He briefly pondered how vastly different they were but other than that Arthur was lost to a sea of unprocessed thoughts that all revolved around Merlin and lying and darkness.

Suddenly, Arthur’s vision clouded over, and he tried to push the memories away, but the woman in black was persistent. Her voice already rang through his skull.

_Arthur, find me . . . there is not much time._

Arthur was lost to it the next second; the same scene washed over him, and he was there. He once again stood in the field of his dead and suffering men, and stared at a veiled woman in all black. _You need not worry about your people . . . for their souls have already been spared._

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Arthur cried, but his voice was silenced.

The woman lifted her veil and showed off her three ever changing eyes. She gestured slowly toward the bodies around her before she spoke again. _It is your men that you seek . . . for they will be the end of us all._

None of that made sense to Arthur. At this time his own mind was nearly beyond comprehension in a lucid state. He could not depict the reason behind these visions, and he was about to have a very kingly breakdown directed at his own mind’s eye when his horse suddenly screeched to a stop and nearly bucked Arthur off in her haste. As the horse calmed again Arthur shook his head to clear it from the muddled memories while he absently drew his sword. When he could finally see straight, he saw that a knight of Camelot, Sir Leon, stood in front of him.

Arthur blinked. Relief washed over him as he sighted his longtime friend alive and whole, but before Arthur could speak another two knights stepped into view from the trees.

His horse bucked once more at the new intruders, but Arthur held fast again.

“Such a great king.” Sir Leon smiled a little too wide. He had a crazy look in his eye, and Arthur instantly grew more wary. “Finest in the land, we hear,” he drawled and the other two knights let out howls of laughter. Sir Leon ignored them and raised a brow in Arthur’s direction. “Why don’t we see about that?”

Before Arthur could respond he was attacked from both sides. His horse lost all nerve then, bucked Arthur off for good, and ran off into the forest without him. When he hit the ground Arthur didn’t try to breathe, having been bucked off plenty before he knew that the fall would make him incapable. Instead he gritted his teeth and listened to the movements around him. The leaves crunched, and Arthur absently swung.

The swipe hit one of them and had the other lunging back far enough that Arthur managed to roll to his feet, but as soon as he righted himself and sucked in a strangled breath, the two knights were closing in on him again. Arthur gritted his teeth and pushed all thoughts from his mind as he readied himself to fight for his life. He’d managed to injure both of them when a force suddenly hit him out of nowhere and threw him against a tree. He blinked his eyes open to find that Sir Leon stared back at him with a grin.

“Sorcerer,” Arthur spat, he couldn’t believe he’d let so much slip past him. First Merlin, and now his best knight, too? He saw Leon everyday as he grew up and nearly did still. How could he have been so blind?

The knight merely chuckled and then three things happened at once.

The two knights that he’d already taken down rose and wore matching smirks, their armor was still bloody and torn but their bodies moved like they were uninjured again. In the blink of an eye Sir Leon was suddenly pressed up against him with a hand wrapped tightly around his throat. Then the blue eyes that stared down into his own flashed black.

“Not exactly,” Leon said.

Arthur could only gaze into the empty pits.


	21. Chapter 21

Arthur only had a second to realize that it wasn’t—couldn’t possibly have been—his knight before his vision flooded black from the inhumanly strong grip around his neck, and he was nearly unable to think at all. Arthur had just noticed the overwhelming, and truly terrible, smell that loomed around Leon when he felt a sudden presence. The air felt charged, warm, suddenly. With what, he couldn’t have said, but it felt familiar against his skin. It made Arthur feel powerful. The thing that choked him caught a whiff of it slightly after Arthur did and it dropped him abruptly, and whipped around.

Arthur gasped out and sagged against the tree. He heard screaming, felt a steaming sizzle run through the air, and forced himself to open his eyes.

It took Arthur a moment to process the scene that unfolded in front of him, but when he finally did, he didn’t know what to think.

He was vaguely aware of Merlin holding his arm out, his long fingers splayed wide as one of the knights flew against a far tree, but even as Arthur heard the bones crack from his spot ten feet away all he could really focus on was the rich gold that flooded Merlin’s eyes. Gwaine suddenly yelled and Arthur snapped out of it. He blinked away the image even as the memory of it burned into his mind. He looked over to find Gwaine swinging his sword wildly. He chopped off another knight’s head.

“They don’t die, Merlin!” Gwaine shouted as Arthur grabbed his sword already thinking the same thing.

He raced over to the tree and swung. He watched as the knight’s head rolled to the forest floor and then he joined Gwaine and Merlin. The three of them all stalked around Sir Leon cautiously.

Merlin still had his arm outstretched, and Gwaine and Arthur both had their swords raised high, set on the knight’s throat. Arthur was about to open his mouth when Leon suddenly disappeared.


	22. Chapter 22

“Come on . . . we’ve got to go . . . now.”

Merlin was already on the move. He tried to grab Arthur and force him toward their horses. Arthur wrenched himself from Merlin’s tight grip like it had burnt him.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Arthur spat, and as soon was the words seemed to register Merlin froze up and backed away. It seemed like the commotion had caused Merlin a momentary lapse of memory. Well, Arthur hadn’t forgotten. Couldn’t for a second.

Merlin floundered, his mouth opened and closed but not a sound came out.

“Just leave me,” Arthur commanded.

“Arthur, you can’t be serious—”

Arthur drew his sword and held it level with Merlin’s neck. “Do you want to find out how serious I am, Merlin?”

For a second Merlin screwed his face up as if he was about to cry, but to Arthur’s surprise Merlin just got angry. He clenched his jaw, glared straight at Arthur, and chose to ignore the sword completely. He even took a step toward Arthur and, as the tip of the blade met with Merlin’s throat, Arthur nearly faltered against his sudden urge to pull away.

“Don’t do something stupid, Arthur,” Gwaine warned, which threw Arthur completely off. He’d forgotten the other knight was even there and the sound of his voice brought Arthur back to reality. He looked over and belatedly realized that Gwaine had his sword raised a bit toward Arthur. Not high, but ready.

“Now this is a betrayal I expected,” Arthur hissed.

“I’m doing this for you,” Gwaine argued. “You don’t want to hurt Merlin. You might feel like that now, but—”

Suddenly Gwaine’s sword swung out of his hand and landed a good ten feet away.

“Stay out of this, Gwaine,” Merlin said. His voice was void of any readable emotion.

“But Merlin—”

Gwaine froze, and for a second Arthur thought he’d had another vision, but seconds passed and the knight didn’t move a muscle. Not even to breathe. Merlin sighed and the noise seemed obscenely loud. Arthur realized that was because the forest around him had gone completely quiet. Everything around him was frozen.

Arthur instantly started to search the nearby area for signs of danger. He’d almost let himself jump in front of Merlin before an insane idea struck him.

“ _You’re_ doing this?” Arthur snapped and Merlin nodded. Arthur shook his head and ran a hand over his face. After he ran it through his hair Arthur dropped his hand and sighed out, “I’m such a fool . . . you’ve been lying to me all this time.”

“I’m still me,” Merlin said as he tried to take a step closer, he still ignored the sword pressed dangerously close to his neck.

“I don’t want to be near you right now, Merlin!” Arthur shouted and, afraid that Merlin would move toward him again, he dropped the sword, but only to his side. “I don’t know if I ever want to be near you again!”

“Well too bad!” Merlin shouted right back in a defiant tone he’d used with Arthur plenty of times before. A chilling sensation ran down Arthur’s spine when he heard it this time though. Things were different now that Arthur knew. Everything was different. Arthur felt like anything he’d ever known about Merlin had to be disregarded and all of his actions had to be studied under a new light.

“Because you’re bloody stuck with me,” Merlin continued. “At least for now, because I will not let you run off and get yourself slaughtered! I mean, did you see those blood stains back there, Arthur?” Merlin stalked forward as he said this and crowded Arthur, who contemplated pushing him away but didn’t. “And the way _Leon_ just threw you with his bloody mind?! You can’t do this without me. I won’t let you. But I will help you, I will keep you safe, and we can fix this. Please . . . you can still trust me.”

Arthur swallowed. He didn’t want to be left alone. He didn’t want _any_ of this to happen. He wished all of it could just be a terrible joke. But alas . . . no matter how much he wished, the fact that he stood in the middle of the forest while time was stopped all around him—while the most important person in his life used magic to stop time around them—didn’t change. Arthur felt tears well in the corner of his eyes. He gritted his teeth together harder and willed the tears away. Because Gods be damned if Arthur was going to let himself cry when Merlin hadn’t even shed a tear.

“Please, Arthur.” Merlin had resulted to begging and that was it. Merlin finally broke like the damn _sorceress_ he was. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pushed back sobs, which made it harder for Arthur to contain his own. “At least until we figure out what’s going on . . . at least until I know you’re safe.”

“I don’t understand,” Arthur found himself admitting. The wetness in his eyes was so heavy, so close to falling. “Damn it, Merlin! I don’t understand any of this!”

“I know,” Merlin said softly. Then louder, “I know, Arthur, but you will. And I will help you. I’ll answer any questions . . . tell you everything. Just. Please. We must leave. I don’t know what we’re up against. I don’t know if my magic will affect them for long.”

“Time is frozen, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur felt the need to point that out. Just in case the idiot had somehow forgotten. “You bloody stopped time!”

“I know, but there’s more than just Leon being possessed by those things out there,” Merlin argued. “We were attacked by . . . another person at the tavern. She was much more powerful, though. She has been following us since we left this morning. I could feel her prowling. I never saw her until now though, and we nearly didn’t escape.”

“Okay,” Arthur said before he even had time to think about it.

“Um . . . what?” Merlin asked, and Arthur blinked. Why had he just agreed? He should have taken it back, he knew that. But why wasn’t his mouth complying?

“Okay,” Arthur said again, firmer that time. Who was he kidding? Himself? The second he heard that Merlin had been attacked without him there, Arthur knew that he had to suck it up, knew that he wasn’t leaving Merlin to die. He couldn’t let the other know this, though. “But only because you still have the stone, and I’m not going to let you run off and get yourself killed. Losing the only clue I have now.”

“Right . . .” Merlin said slowly. He went wide eyed, but then he snapped out of it and nodded jerkily. “Because I totally won’t give it to you. Right.”

Merlin looked so unsure and Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If the action caused the wetness in the corners to leak over, well. It didn’t count as crying.


	23. Chapter 23

Merlin seemed content to just stand there.

“Well,” Arthur snapped as he gestured wildly with his sword. “Don’t just stand there.”

Merlin gulped, but still didn’t move. “Could you maybe . . . turn around . . . or something, sire?”

“No . . .” Arthur drawled as he eyed the nervous Merlin in front of him. “Why would I do that?”

“Because my—ah,” Merlin waved a hand in front of his own face. “You know.”

“I actually don’t, Merlin.” Arthur deadpanned.

“I don’t want you to see right now,” Merlin hissed.

“See wha . . .” Arthur trailed off as he understood what Merlin was talking about. “You’re worried about me seeing your eyes glow?”

Merlin nodded and bit at his bottom lip.

Arthur studied Merlin for a long moment before he replied. “It’s fine . . . already saw them once and didn’t kill you, did I?”

“You—you—you mean you saw?” Merlin gasped, wide eyed. “I mean, I wasn’t worried about you killing me, I just . . .”

Merlin trailed off and turned around with a huff. The next second everything unfroze.

“—I can’t just let him do this,” Gwaine was saying and Arthur snorted dryly.

Arthur only had a second to relish Gwaine’s confused expression before he remembered and the cold dread washed through his veins. As he searched above, the feeling grew and settled heavy in Arthur stomach. Aithusa was nowhere to be seen.

Only vaguely aware of Gwaine questioning Merlin, Arthur whipped around, squinted against the sun, and, when he still saw no sign of white, hoped to the Gods that she was just hiding from him.

“Arth—”

“Where is she?!” Arthur hissed as he rounded back on Merlin. As he yelled he couldn’t feel how wide his eyes were or how tight his muscled coiled because in this state a strange numbness took him and fogged even his own senses. Though, by the expression on Merlin’s face, Arthur had an idea how livid he must have looked. He’d only seen that wild, stubborn, and purely startled expression on Merlin’s face a few times, and two of those times had been earlier that day, and each time Arthur had been the one who’d put them there. In the deepest depths of his own mind, Arthur could admit that this nearly singular control he had over Merlin’s raw emotions astounded him to fascinating degrees. It always had. It was once perhaps what had Arthur so captured, but knowing Merlin was a sorcerer rekindled this interest that he’d long pushed aside.

Time seemed to slow as Arthur’s mind raced. Why would a sorcerer open himself up to Arthur like that? Merlin knew Arthur was the heir to the throne since the day they’d first met. So, _why?_ Arthur couldn’t make sense of it. He’d seen Merlin brush off a slew of cruel insults from a variety of nobility, yet when Merlin caught Arthur yelling at a serving girl _once_ he proceeded to glare at Arthur for the next three days, and Arthur distinctly remembered taking one of the coldest baths in his life afterward, too. Thoughts of treachery flashed to the forefront of his mind, but he quickly pushed them away. If Merlin was simply playing out some kind of evil scheme why would he act as the most infuriating, incompetent servant there ever was? That didn’t make sense. Arthur found himself entertaining the same conclusion he’d always seemed to draw. Sorcerer or not, it seemed likeliest that Arthur provoked Merlin in a way that the servant simply couldn’t ignore. Under this discovery the silence around them seemed deafening, and suddenly the look on Merlin’s face had him feeling a little sick like it always did. Arthur tried to calm down and instead asked, “What happened?”

Merlin eyed him warily, but seemed to sense the change and a after a beat he answered.

“I—ah—I don’t know,” Merlin said. He shook his head and wiped his palms off on his trousers nervously. “I only just noticed as well. But—”

“You didn’t even check to see if she was okay after you were attacked?!” Arthur cried.

“She wasn’t hurt!” Merlin cried right back without a beat of silence left between them. “Besides, sire, you didn’t seem too concerned about her when had your blade to her neck!” Merlin blinked and sputtered before Arthur had even reacted. “I mean. Not that you. She just—”

“That was different,” Arthur protested weakly. “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“I know,” Merlin said. “And I know that you still don’t want to see her hurt, which is why you need to listen to me, Arthur. Dragons are more powerful than any of us could ever imagine and Aithusa is smart. I saw that she was okay, I told her to follow us, and she did. However, after being yelled at by each of us in turn, she probably didn’t feel much like sticking around. Who knows?” Arthur started to protest and Merlin cut him off, “ _But_ . . . if you truly wish for her to be safe then she has a better chance of that away from us. At least for the moment. I promise I will help you find her again after. If need be, that is. She will probably be back to following you around in no time without my help.”

Merlin raised a brow in Arthur’s direction as he finished. The small action seemed to question Arthur’s very intelligence, and Arthur wondered how it was possible to want to choke someone so much and see to their well-being at the same time.

The king still nodded without a word.

“Alright then. We need to go.” Merlin walked over to the horses, paused suddenly, and turned back around. “Um,” he said to Arthur. “Where’s your horse?”

“It was scared off by those things,” Arthur sighed. “She’s probably halfway back to Camelot by now.”

“Well . . . if it’s okay with you we can both ride on my horse. I’ll—uh—make us lighter for the horse’s sake. It will be okay.”

Arthur raised a brow that he hoped mirrored the one Merlin had worn only moments before. He didn’t know which absurdity he should comment on first. The fact that Merlin didn’t just offer him the horse, the fact Merlin had the audacity to comment on Arthur’s weight at a time like this, or the fact that Merlin just suggested spelling the king of Camelot.

“Right . . . I mean.” Merlin blushed, sheepish in the most awkward way, and his hand waved about as if he frantically wanted to erase the picture he’d just painted. “I’ll just ride with Gwaine.”

“No,” Arthur said without a second of thought. He didn’t look at Merlin as he walked over to the horse and he didn’t let himself think about why. He didn’t feel he needed to explain anything, even to himself. This was not the time for deliberation. He did need Merlin’s help and, at a frantic time like this, Arthur could admit to himself that things would get intolerable pretty fast if he had to deal with Merlin having magic and had to see Merlin’s crotch touching any part of Gwaine’s body. He didn’t have to admit it out loud though. “You’ll ride with me so I can keep my eye on you.”

“Smooth one, princess,” Gwaine sniggered. Arthur blatantly ignored him.

“Well what are you waiting for?” Arthur snapped at Merlin. “I thought we were in a hurry?”

“Don’t hate me,” Merlin sighed and shook his head. “Just please don’t hate me more.”

Arthur nodded without really thinking about it. Merlin eyed him worriedly, like he’d already figured out Arthur’s new deflection strategy.

Merlin put his hand on the saddle and whispered a spell. Arthur knew something was going to happen, but he was still shocked when the leather grew and morphed into a larger form that was big enough for both of them.

Arthur blinked at the saddle in confusion. “I always knew there was something off with you, Merlin. I just didn’t realize how off.”

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin chuckled. Arthur eyed him and hoped all the interest he felt was buried beneath the wariness he tried to show.

Merlin didn’t look fooled. “Now, I promise this won’t hurt a bit—”

“Woah.” Arthur caught the arm that Merlin started to raise, held it in place, and eyed each offending finger pointed at him in turn. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Now, sire,” Merlin started in a tone not unlike the one Gaius had often taken with his father. Arthur had always associated the tone with controlled exasperation and stubbornness, and, because of this fact, he already found himself scowling at Merlin. Even before Merlin continued, “It wouldn’t be rational to make myself weightless. Not when poor Ted here is accustomed to the weight of a lowly servant. He will be much faster without having to accommodate so much . . . kingliness.”

Merlin had magic, a twig stuck in his hair, and still managed to look so damn proud of himself. Just like that Arthur was back to what seemed to be his greatest dilemma of the day so far. Years later, whenever the king looked back, he still debated whether this dilemma was truly the biggest one he dealt with that day . . .

Lost memories, down a kingdom, under personal attack by his own knights, fears of being a bad mother, the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth as his manservant and Arthur still held the importance of this question as high as the rest:

To choke or not to choke?


	24. Chapter 24

Merlin led them in the direction of the lake of Avalon. Arthur had his doubts about traveling to what he’d always believed to be an imaginary place, but Merlin said they would find answers there, and Arthur had no better ideas. They’d only been riding for what seemed like minutes when a series of deep hoots filled the air. Arthur barely recognized the sound for what it was: an owl, because of how growled out and loud the hoots were.

Before Arthur could find the owl, a familiar set of screeches rang through the forest too. Almost as soon as he registered them, Aithusa swooped overhead and flapped in front of his and Merlin’s horse. She looked livid and had a saddle bag—Arthur’s saddle bag—around her thin neck like a necklace. Arthur couldn’t believe her neck wasn’t about to snap. Although, she had managed to drag a hung over Gwaine about the castle earlier so he supposed his surprise was unfounded.

She slid the bag off, it fell over Arthur's head, and Merlin caught it with a grunt. She paid him no mind and continued to glare at Arthur.

“Little one,” Arthur said and he only managed to give her an awkward nod because he didn’t know what else to do.

“Rude,” Aithusa accused. “Silly Pendragons so rude.”

Suddenly the owl flapped overhead and fluttered itself down to perch on Gwaine’s shoulder. When the thing finished glaring at each of them, he announced, “I assure you all ‘rude’ is not my insult of choice when the Pendragons are concerned . . . she did not learn that from me.”

There was a long beat of silence then,

“Kilgharrah!” Merlin shouted. His face contorted with so much disbelief that Arthur was sure his jaw was about to snap off and get lost on the forest floor. Arthur wasn’t shocked and he didn’t think it was because the numb state his mind had fallen into at Aithusa’s arrival. Merlin fathered a dragon so why wouldn’t he be friends with a talking owl? Logic. That was what it was. Not deflection.

Okay, maybe he was still deflecting a bit. Having a warm Merlin pressed against his back made everything confusing and Arthur wondered if he could blame the magic for making him so messy on the inside. 

“Young warlock.” The owl glared at Merlin. Before anyone could make another move, Aithusa hurtled herself through the air and clung to the owl. She smacked Gwaine with her wing a bit in her excitement and the knight sputtered, but had no choice but to take the abuse as Aithusa ignored him completely and continued to squawk excitedly.

“Broder! You came!” The dragon shouted, and Arthur almost snorted, but thought better of it at the last second. It seemed Aithusa had humans for parents and a brother that was an owl. Confused baby dragon, indeed.

“Off,” the owl commanded, the syllable sounded a bit hoot-y. Aithusa listened surprisingly fast, but not before she’d pressed a small kiss right on the owl’s feathery brow. Then she took off again. She soared up in the sky and circled around happily.

“Wha . . . what?” Merlin babbled. He gestured around uselessly like the world no longer made sense. “What _happened_ to you, Kilgharrah?”

The owl continued to glare. “You, young warlock, _happened._ ”

“I . . . I did this to you?” At first glance, Merlin looked horrified, but knowing Merlin the way Arthur did, he soon saw the outlining mischief that Merlin couldn’t keep from lighting his eyes. If the beady owl eyes that burned into Merlin were anything to go by then the owl knew Merlin well enough to see this too. At this rate, Arthur wasn’t surprised by this revelation either. He thought about it for only a moment then decided, yes, being _best_ friends with a woodland creature was just too much of a Merlin thing to do. It was undeniable.

The owl continued to glare for a few moments, but eventually sighed and gave in, like one must always do when dealing with Merlin. Arthur had never felt so connected to a bird before.

“Yes . . . so turn me back,” it kindly asked.

“Back?” Gwaine asked cocking his head to the side to look at the bird, but it had already pushed off of his shoulder and flew over to hover in front of Arthur and Merlin’s horse. He looked rather expectant for an owl, Arthur thought. 

“How?” Merlin questioned, but he had already started to lean forward in to Arthur and maneuvered himself off the horse somehow. The armor that lined Arthur’s back seemed to cool instantly at the loss.

“With your magic,” the owl snapped. “Just do it.”

Merlin flailed and raised his arm. Arthur couldn’t fathom why Merlin would be scared of an owl when he could clearly stop time in the blink of an eye. Probably because he was Merlin, Arthur decided, as Merlin closed his eyes, whispered a spell, and nothing happened.

Arthur was starting to think that Merlin wasn’t lying when he’d said ‘it’s still me.’

“I don’t know how!” Merlin protested. “Gods, Kilgharrah. I am so sorry—”

“Now. Merlin!” The owl screeched, and a slight bit of fire flew out of the owl’s beak. “I will figure out a way to turn myself back and the first thing I’ll do is have your little king for breakfast if you don’t turn me back this instant!”

“Okay, okay,” Merlin said throwing up his hands in defeat. “I’ll try for real.”

After he shot Arthur a nervous glance, Merlin gritted his teeth and flexed the muscles in his arm. His eyes fluttered closed, and when they flew open again, they glowed gold. There was a blinding burst of blue light and a loud thump.

When Arthur could see again, he nearly fell back on his arse because the Great Dragon was now in front of him. Green, scaly, proud, and so big he broke a series of branches as he stretched.

And here Arthur had started to think Merlin being shy about his eyes was cute. No.

Arthur was a hunter. He hunted tricky little foxes. He did not find them _cute._

Ironically, that was Merlin’s job.

Gwaine let out a whooping cheer followed up by a whistle, but Arthur couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beast in front of him.

“I would say thank you,” the Great Dragon sneered at Merlin, “but considering it’s your fault, I don’t really feel like you deserve it.”

“I thought you were dead!” Arthur shouted, but it was more out of surprise than anger.

The dragon turned to Arthur then and said, “Ah . . . young Pendragon, I did not think we would meet again so soon.”

Arthur blinked. He could have sworn that the dragon had smirked at him just then.

“We are having some . . . troubles remembering what happened last night,” Merlin said as he studiously stared at the forest floor.

The dragon sighed.

“I can only imagine," the beast drawled. "You called me last night in search of a ride. After I so kindly obeyed, I was gifted with you turning me into that.”

“Why would I do that?” Merlin asked and, at the same time, Gwaine expectantly asked,

“A ride? To where?”

The dragon eyed Gwaine, but mostly ignored the knight in favor to look at Arthur oddly instead. He finally looked back to Merlin and answered, “You wanted to introduce me to the young Pendragon of course . . .” and yes there was definitely a smirk this time. “You also needed a ride to Avalon.” The dragon paused and renewed his glare toward Merlin. “Or so you said.”

Merlin groaned. “So I really called Freya then? How? And what do you mean ‘Or so you said?”

“I do not think it possible for most young sorcerers to call upon a resting spirit without aid,” the dragon started and Merlin began to let out a relieved huff, only to violently suck it back in as the dragon continued. “However, you have done many things most would call impossible, young warlock.

“And as for your intentions, let us just say that you suddenly felt I’d been lying to you and sought fit that I deserved to be an owl. You and the young Pendragon also decided to claim Aithusa as your own. Something about . . . how I was teaching her to speak?” the dragon looked both mildly offended and angered suddenly, and mumbled something about dragon tongues. Arthur shook the nonsense off and studied Merlin for a reaction.

Merlin seemed to be thinking terribly hard when suddenly an answer lit his features and he sighed under his mind’s own conformation. He showed no outworldly signs of thinking the dragon was lying now as he asked, “Can you tell me what those things are? You stopped her, didn’t you? I saw your . . . feathers.”

The dragon nodded. “They are demons.”

“Demons,” Merlin nodded his head stupidly. “Because why in the _hell_ not?” He shook his head as if to clear it. Then he suddenly looked to the dragon very seriously and asked, “She will be okay, right?”

“The host should be unharmed by the spell I performed. Though I must warn you, young warlock, looks can be deceiving. For demons have the power to live within the dead. We simply have no way to know if the—if she is already gone.”

Merlin promptly sank to his arse. “No,” he said, his words were laced with hurt and disbelief. “No, not after all we’ve worked for . . . this isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“You know as well as I that everything set in stone is not always how it seems.”

“You’re saying this is supposed to happen?” Merlin snapped up at the dragon already climbing back to his feet. He stalked forward. “That this is how she’s supposed to sit on that throne? That this is all Albion was ever meant to be?”

The dragon eyed Merlin, but not unkindly. His yellow eyes seemed vast, and emotion seemed to pour out of them. All stayed quiet as warlock and dragon seemed to have a silent battle with only their eyes. Arthur was lost to their communication. The words that were already spoken rolled through his mind as he tried to make sense of them. Arthur didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but it seemed almost as if Merlin and the dragon had . . . some sort of plan involving all Albion and for some reason Arthur. A plan that seemed very important to both of them.

Finally, the dragon spoke. “Many an obstacle has always stood in your way, and the young Pendragon’s Camelot has yet to fall.” The dragon waited until Merlin nodded slightly before he continued, “I have told you before, young warlock, you will face many challenges posed by friend and foe alike.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. All he’d learned was that Merlin had apparently been saving his arse a lot more than Arthur had known about. He didn’t see how any of this creature’s nonsense was even relevant to their situation. Merlin had no such problem, and hurried to ask, “So, this is Morgana’s work, then?” Merlin’s face was blank, besides an arched brow. “She has found herself new alliance in these demons?”

“The witch is neither the friend nor the foe this time, but yes. One could say she has found new alliance.”

Merlin hummed thoughtfully.

“What does that even mean?!” Arthur barked. He couldn’t help it. Aithusa chuckled somewhere to his left. Arthur turned and scowled up at her.

When he looked back to the other dragon, it smirked. “I only know what I’ve seen, young Pendragon.”

“What?” Arthur asked, irritated to the point of exasperation. “Am I supposed to understand what that means? What any of this means?!”

“No.” It was Merlin who spoke up even though Arthur had been addressing the dragon. Arthur turned to Merlin and found that his gaze was pinned to the forest floor again. “But he is telling us all that he can. All that we’d want to know.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because, Arthur, knowing the future is like--like--it’s like playing with fire, yeah?”

“Oh, and here I thought sorcerers loved that sort of thing,” Arthur deadpanned.

“Young Pendragon,” The dragon chuckled. “You’ve got it wrong. Merlin does not do magic. Merlin is magic—”

Merlin cut the dragon off as he hissed out in another language. Once the dragon had closed its mouth, Merlin spoke so that they all could understand. “Kilgharrah, please, that is not going to help the situation. We need to focus. I’d say there’s been about three too many distractions thrown at us already. Sadly you’ll just have to hold off any discussions of my tragic life until further notice.” Merlin plastered a fake smile across his face. “Once the people are back, Arthur’s arse is once more on that throne, and I’m burning in courtyard would be a much better time for this conversation. You and Arthur can have a long talk over some roasted lamb . . . all about destinies.”

The dragon dipped its head slightly, silently obeying Merlin’s wish. “I just fear now is a crucial stepping stone in your entwined destinies. I fear more lies will only hold you back. You will need the strongest . . . resources that you have if you hope to stop such evil.”

“What? More secrets, Merlin?” Arthur sneered. “Really?”

Merlin sighed. “Its not like that, Arthur. I just, I don’t know where we stand. I don’t know anything right now. The only thing that I know for certain is that I’m not going to let you push me away until our people are safe and you’re sitting plump back on that throne. After that, well . . . I will not fight you. On _anything_. And I won’t die with you looking at me like some kind of monster.”

“Merlin—”

“Just no, Arthur,” Merlin hissed. “Please.”

Arthur wanted to say so much. He wanted to push. Hell, he wanted to punch. He didn’t do anything.

The Great Dragon cleared its throat. “Did you hear the spell that I used, young warlock?” He asked, and Merlin nodded. “Do you think you can manage it?”

Merlin thought for a moment, but soon he slowly nodded again. “I should be able to. I can conjure water without a thought usually and the extra bit seemed simple enough. Spells in Dragontongue tend to come easier for me anyway.”

“Very good,” the dragon replied. “Demons also have a weakness to iron and salt. Besides that, I do not know much else that could help you, young warlock.”


	25. Chapter 25

After he was subjected to another dose of Aithusa’s kisses the Great Dragon left them with one last cryptic warning before he flew away, and Arthur felt like he was more confused than before. He tried to think over the thing’s words, but he was pulled out of his thoughts by Gwaine. Once the dragon was far enough away Gwaine collapsed in a fit of laughter, and Merlin followed right after him. Arthur just stood there and watched them as he absently fumed until Gwaine’s voice pulled him from his stupor. “Merlin . . . Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, I always knew there was something amazingly great about you . . .” he laughed some more and Arthur really wanted to punch him in the face because hello? Big fat liar! “I just never imagined you were the last Dragonlord.”

Merlin sighed, sat up on his elbows, and looked over to Arthur. Gwaine’s eyes followed and realization spread across the knight's features before he said, “Come on now, princess, you can’t still be mad at Merlin. It’s just _Merlin_!”

“Just Merlin!” Arthur shouted. “Just _Merlin_! He’s a bloody sorcerer, he has been _lying_ to me, he . . . he is . . . a dragon . . .”

Arthur trailed off as the next revelation washed over him. _Balinor_. Merlin seemed to understand Arthur’s sudden falter and looked up with sad eyes.

“Merlin . . . I . . . I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” Arthur tried to sound as sincere as he could, because even if Merlin was a liar, Arthur was truly . . . he was just terrible. Had he honestly told Merlin not to cry over his own father’s death? It’s not like he'd meant it. He had never seen Merlin cry like that before and he had never wanted to see Merlin to cry like that again. All Arthur could picture in his mind as he’d readied to face the Great Dragon was Merlin's face twisted with such sadness. Arthur could still remember the exact moment he’d realized that he didn’t want Merlin to ever be like that over him.

“It’s okay, Arthur. You didn’t know,” Merlin assured as he stood and brushed himself off. “How could you have? Besides, I knew what you meant. You thought you were going to die.”

“But I should—”

Merlin shushed him, and to Arthur’s surprise Merlin stepped forward and hugged him before Arthur even had time to react. Tight and warm around Arthur, Merlin whispered, “I’m sorry, Arthur, I’m so, so sorry. I never wanted to keep this from you. You are my best friend in this entire world, I wanted you to know. I wanted you to see me for what I really am. But I just couldn’t, I couldn’t bring myself to put you against your father.”

_And it would have_. The realization burned into Arthur’s skull. Arthur would have— _was_ —questioning his father. Because Merlin wasn’t evil, Merlin was . . . well, he was a lot of things, but not evil.

Merlin stepped back and had mounted their horse before Arthur even noticed that he'd moved. As he maneuvered himself in front of Merlin, Aithusa suddenly swooped down from above and clung to his chest and neck.

“Mama!” She cried. “Papa! Water! Water, papa, water!”

“Aithusa stop,” Merlin said and the dragon instantly fell quiet and peered around Arthur’s shoulder to glare at Merlin. She seemed to conveniently forget about her grudge against Arthur yet she still felt Merlin deserved some coldness. Arthur was pleased with her choice.

“Its okay, little one.” Arthur ran a thumb down the side of her neck. “What is it?”

“Water,” she whispered. “Papa need water. Mama bag eat water! Aithusa save bag! Aithusa save water!”

“ _Water,_ ” Arthur gasped as he understood what she meant. “Brilliant, princess!” Arthur cheered and pressed a kiss to her little head. She gasped and attacked him with about a million of her own before she was off again.

“Bag, Merlin,” Arthur snapped as he frantically looked over his shoulder. “Where’s that bag she had?”

“It’s right--”

“Dig through it. See if you can find--”

Arthur was cut off as Merlin gasped. He watched from over his shoulder as Merlin pulled the vial out and studied closer.

“Do you know what it is?” Arthur asked.

“I can’t be certain, but I have seen something like this once before.”

“What is it?” Gwaine asked, and Arthur nearly startled, he’d forgotten Gwaine was even there. He turned to find the knight mounted and edging his horse closer to them.

Merlin continued to study the object intently, but answered Gwaine’s question, “I’m not exactly sure . . . I’ve only ever seen one thing like it before . . . the Fisher King gave me something like this.”

Gwaine and Arthur both eyed Merlin for a long moment, then they looked to each other, as they looked back to the warlock they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but Merlin beat them to it.

“If this is what I think it is, then we are in luck.”


	26. Chapter 26

Merlin brought them to a bloody cave. Arthur would have gone to a imaginary lake without protest. The cave however was damp and dark and just plain creepy.

“Merlin, what the hell are you playing at?” Arthur asked, but he continued to follow Merlin further into the cave.

“I don’t really know,” Merlin replied. “Last time I did this, it was in a cave. I’m not taking any chances.”

“That’s . . . logical, I suppose.”

Merlin snorted. “Arthur, I’m not like, any different. Okay? You would not have found any of this logical before. You would have demanded we went somewhere else, we would have nearly gotten ourselves killed, and then we would have had to travel back all bruised and tired and do what I'd suggested in the first place.” Merlin paused as Gwaine attempted to contain his laughter and failed. “I’m not complaining though, because despite what you seemed to think I’m not a complete idiot. I just. I do what I have to and you make it difficult sometimes.”

Merlin suddenly rounded a corner and abruptly stopped.

Before Arthur could even ask, Merlin had smashed the vial into the stones below. Arthur could only watch as the water started to swirl and sparkle. It formed into a puddle first, then into some watery looking form.

“What the hell is that?” Arthur hissed.

“It didn’t do this last time--” Merlin fell silent as the form took the shape of a watery looking young woman.

Arthur was so distracted by the magic, he did jump a little when Merlin whispered out, “Freya.”

The girl smiled an almost shy, but still loving smile, and Merlin’s face broke out into a sort of astonished grin. Arthur felt his stomach clinch as he looked between the two of them in what could only be jealousy, no matter how much Arthur wished it wasn’t.

Gwaine cleared his throat, and Merlin’s grin dissolved. Arthur was reminded of why he kept Gwaine around. The man was never an arse when it actually mattered.

“Merlin,” the girl, Freya, spoke sternly. “I gave you this for emergencies only . . . why have you summoned me again so soon?”

Merlin stuttered and seemed to be at a loss of an explanation, so Arthur rolled his eyes and drawled out, “We don’t remember anything that happened last night.”

“Right!” Merlin agreed quickly.

Freya looked horrified suddenly. "Oh no," she said. "Oh, no, no, no. I sent you there to avoid this!”

Freya pinched her brow between her fingers and shook her head. Then Freya suddenly looked up, nervous, her eyes darted back and forth between Arthur and Merlin, “Oh . . . and you two are . . . okay?” she asked.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Arthur snapped and Merlin turned to him with a hard frown almost instantly.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” Freya ducked her head and bowed. “It’s just last night you two were—”

“Don’t bloody apologize to him, Freya,” Merlin hissed cutting the girl off. “He murdered you!”

Arthur did a double take. No. He definitely didn’t remember murdering her at any point in his life. Maybe Merlin _was_ an evil sorcerer. They were always crazy.

“Merlin,” Freya said softly as she walked over and took one of his hand in her own. “You know in your heart that that isn’t true. Arthur was only doing what was best for Camelot.”

“I did not kill you!” Arthur felt that he needed to point this out. He liked where Freya was going at first but . . . oh shit.

The watery form that was Freya had suddenly transformed into a giant, black cat with wings and. Oh . . .

Maybe Arthur did murder her?

In the blink of an eye Freya was back to normal, and she must have read something off of his face because she said, “It wasn’t murder. And don’t worry, I already accepted your apology last night.”

“You mean . . . you saw . . ?” Merlin groaned at the implement of what last night entailed. Arthur didn’t care. “Oh gods,” Merlin groaned again. Arthur still did not care.

Freya waved Merlin off with a gesture. “Please don’t start. I heard enough of that last night as well. I’m dead, Merlin, and I happen to think that you finally moving on to a living, breathing person is amazing . . . and there isn’t a better person for you than King Arthur.” Arthur greatly failed to see her logic. “Besides . . . I met someone . . . so if you could stop summoning me quite so often that would be great. Oh, and no more late night calls like last night.”

“You met someone . . . right.” Merlin shook his head. “I do need your help, though . . .”

They got down to explaining the situation.


	27. Chapter 27

“You didn’t say anything about any of that last night,” Freya deadpanned.

“What?” Merlin squeaked. “I mean, why in the hell did we summon you then?”

“Like I said before . . . you wanted my blessing, Merlin,” Freya explained with a roll of her eyes. “Luckily, you came to me when you did, though, because Sir Gwaine had wanted to get you all in quite the situation.”

“Wait—so Gwaine was with us then?” Arthur asked while Merlin groaned,

“This makes no sense!”

“ _Mer_ lin, please,” Arthur snapped. “Quit being such a girl. I can’t take the whining _and_ your stupid, lying face. I’m trying to focus here.”

Merlin got that lemon face again, but it was a lying lemon face. Arthur did not find it endearing. Not in the least.

“So . . .” Arthur prompted as he turned back to Freya. “What situation?”

“I believe you all were calling it a Gwadventure,” she drawled flatly. Then, at Arthur’s glare she sighed out, “You all were on a quest to find a plant that’s called ‘poeppigiana.’ Normally, eating it would have little effect. Possibly make you a little loopy, make the world around you a bit more colorful, but . . . mixed with enough magical wine to knock out a horse,” Freya paused and threw Merlin a suspicious look before she continued. “You all would have been in a serious state.”

“Serious how?” Merlin asked, suddenly gone pale. “Deadly?”

“You wanted to get married, Merlin!” The small girl suddenly shouted in a voice that seemed much too loud for her body. “To the king of Camelot! Do you even know how much magic you did? Out in the open? No, of course not. Because you don’t bloody remember a thing! And you!” Freya’s eyes snapped toward Arthur. “You, sire. You were no help at all! Egging him on! Do this, Merlin! Conjure that, Merlin. Put a giant arse, sparkly dragon in the sky and tell the whole world you have magic, _Mer_ lin!”

Freya’s mouth suddenly snapped closed and she actually looked quite horrified with herself. She then blushed, turned her gaze back to Merlin, and said flatly, “It was bad. Really, _really_ bad.”

“Right,” Merlin sighed. “We’ve kind of been figuring that out. So . . . you don’t know anything about Camelot then? What could have happened to the people? The demons?”

“I have seen glimpses,” Freya said. “The water of Avalon is most powerful and it is not only your and Arthur’s destiny which lie in peril. The overall will of the old religion has been harmed by this evil. But no, Merlin, I do not know anything for sure. You know as well as I that nothing good comes of trusting such things.”

“What can you tell me then?”

Freya eyed him for a long time, but when she eventually spoke, it was firm.

“I believe the people of Camelot to be safe . . . though, I have no clue where they could be. The Higher Gods seem most pleased that the demons have not been given the chance to steal their souls.”

“Steal their souls?” Merlin asked.

“I do not know much about it. Only what I heard through the many connections that flow through Avalon. Though, the place that I sent you last night will most likely be able to tell you more . . . that is, if you’re willing to go back?”


	28. Chapter 28

The Druids.

That’s where Freya sent them last night apparently, and where they were headed again.

She'd claimed that it was the only place she could think to send them at the time. They’d asked her directions to the Bleeding Stone, where the poeppigiana berries were, and she had to think on her feet. She didn't want to send Merlin back to Camelot, but Arthur and Merlin had refused to separate so she’d had to improvise. In the end she’d fed them directions to a Druid camp. She knew of no one else who would have known how to help them in the states they were in.

Arthur tried not to think about the fact that he’d basically walked into an enemy camp last night without remembering it. He was still surprised he’d made it out alive, but if all they’d learned this day was true then why would the Druids kill him? Arthur loved magic, apparently. Couldn’t get enough of it. Wanted to marry it—

“Mama want to marry papa!” Aithusa cheered and Arthur groaned. He threw her a glare over his shoulder, but quickly softened when she just beamed back at him.

They traveled silently for the most part, and the camp was luckily located not too far from where they were when they’d called Freya. As they rode, Arthur did a lot of thinking. He realized some disturbing truths that he ached to comment on and had to bite his tongue to keep in. Merlin had to be the one who’d freed Kilgharrah in the first place, Arthur decided. _Merlin_ had freed the _Great Dragon_ right under Arthur’s nose. Arthur could only imagine what other things the warlock had done. The next revelation almost had Arthur snorting out loud. He almost wanted to pardon Merlin completely for the lie, if only because Arthur himself had been so _bloody stupid._

Arthur had woken up in a field full of his knocked out men with Merlin, lone and unharmed, stood over him, and the Great Dragon no where to be found. And Arthur had actually believed he’d killed the thing!

Arthur wanted to believe that his stupidity had been caused from adrenaline or something. No matter how much he tried though, Arthur couldn’t effectively lie to himself. He knew what had actually spurred his quick belief and the thought of it had his cheeks flaming.

He’d believed because he’d wanted to believe. That small spark that all humans felt when things always went their way had already been ignited deep in his chest. A spark that had Arthur believing he was special and needed. A spark that gave him purpose. At that point in his life, Arthur had already started to find himself, his legacy, important. He’d felt like he couldn’t fail, because someone or something was watching over him.

It all started with that damned ball of blue light.

When Arthur realized that the light had most likely been Merlin as well, he’d cut his thought process off completely and tried to focus on the sound of Aithusa’s flapping wings. They helped drowned out the rushing sound of his failures.

It took them about an hour, but they were soon at the last step in the set of directions Freya had given them.

. . . That apparently led them to the middle of the forest.

Of course, it couldn't have been a normal forest. No. It had to be an extra thick and dark and eerily silent forest.

When Arthur glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Merlin looked as if he’d heard something, and he seemed to check his surroundings more with his ears than his eyes. Arthur tried to listen but heard nothing. He moved on to searching through the trees around them instead.

Despite Merlin and Arthur's efforts, the surprise still snuck up on them. Gwaine was the only one who didn't startle as a group of three Druid men approached them from behind. Instead the knight called out to them and startled both Merlin and Arthur, who nearly smacked heads in their haste to whip around.

"Oi!"

The three men greeted them kindly, but cold. Arthur could feel each of their wary gazes bare down on him individually, but he only let himself look at the one in the middle, whom he’d pinned as their leader already.

"King Arthur." The Druid man dipped his head in acknowledgment and each of the men at his sides mirrored him without a word. "Emrys," he said next and they repeated the action in Merlin's direction.

Arthur watched with interest as Merlin cringed and nodded jerkily back at them.

"What? Merlin's not your real name? Seriously?" Arthur asked, incredulous.

"I don't know why they call me that," Merlin sighed. "It's no use telling them otherwise though so we might as well go with it."

Arthur eyed Merlin until the Druid man cleared his throat.

"As much as it pleases us that Emrys and the Once and Future King have actually come back to make allies out of us like you promised. We can not help but be wary of your true intentions. After all, last night you were all in a state that was . . . indecent. Quite indecent indeed."

"We do not wish you any harm," Merlin readily assured before he wriggled back in their combined saddle and nearly brained himself in his haste to get off the horse. Lanky limbs seemed to tangle in impossible ways, but Merlin righted himself rather quickly and held his hands up as a sign of peace. "We have only come to ask for your help."

The man payed Merlin's clumsiness no mind and the two of them seemed to communicate mutely for a moment before the man turned his gaze back to Arthur and he seemed to study the king's very soul.

Before the man could say a word though, Aithusa swooped down from nowhere and attached herself to Arthur's head.

"Mama no hurt nice friends," she claimed.

The man stayed perfectly blank for a second as the two men at his sides turned, shot each other a strange look, and then simultaneously turned the strange look in Arthur's direction.

Then the man in the middle just . . . laughed.


	29. Chapter 29

Arthur was uncomfortable. He sat in a shabby tent, the dirt floor was hard and chilly, and he was surrounded with magic users. Mind, they were magic users who no longer looked scared of Arthur. No. They all just looked eagerly interested in both Arthur and Merlin now. He refused to even think about complaining however, because honestly, Merlin had the brunt of it and his bony arse was sat across from Arthur and he looked perfectly at ease as he gulped down enemy water.

"So . . . you lot don't remember a drop of what happened last night?" The man that had been in the middle back in the forest, whose name Arthur had learned to be Erwen, asked them.

Arthur and Gwaine shook their heads to indicate, no, for the thousandth time: they didn't remember a thing that happened last night.

Merlin, however, eagerly bit into a piece of bread that a random child whose gender Arthur had yet to determine had handed him at some point. Then the warlock proceeded to address the group with his mouth full of mushy half chewed dough. The oddest part of the whole ordeal was how not a single one of the Druids seemed to be put off in the least. Every last Druid inside the small tent, which was an amount that seemed impossible, still stared at Merlin with a spark of awe in their eyes and looked as if they ate his every word up. Even Erwen.

"Not really, no," Merlin started. "We are not necessarily completely blind in this fight though. Arthur and Gwaine have both had a series of visions of the non-magical sort and we've learned a bit from those. However, I am not qualified to consult on any sort of divination. Perhaps one of your people would be of better assistance." Merlin finally swallowed. "We also found a few clues back at Camelot and we've talked to three other people we visited last night. I'm starting to get a pretty good idea of what happened, I think."

"But you remember nothing for yourself?"

Merlin shook his head.

"Well then, Emrys," Erwen drawled. "I do believe we have a surprise for you."

Merlin paused mid-bite. "A surprise?" he asked.

Erwen merely smiled. Suddenly more Druids slipped into the tent. The new arrivals carried large cloth bags that looked to to be stuffed to the brim with books. Some of them even carried more books in their hands.

A small boy walked over and handed Erwen the one book that he carried. The Druid leader then turned to Merlin and offered him the book.

"What is it?" Merlin asked but he didn't wait for an answer. Just snatched it up and started to thumb through the text.

"It is a book that will surely help you with the task ahead. Your book."

"My book?" Merlin asked, then he froze and looked back up. "You knew I would come?"

Erwen chuckled. "Not exactly. That book, these books," he gestured to the others around him. "They have all been made for you. Copies of our sacred texts."

"What? Why?" Merlin shook his head like it was the most ridiculous statement he'd ever heard.

"Because." Erwen’s gaze fell on Arthur. "It was demanded of us."

Merlin seemed to miss the indication. He was too busy staring at his tent full of new books. "I still don't understand. You're saying when we came here last night, we actually talked to you about the demons?"

"Why yes." Erwen suddenly looked confused. "Why else would you have came?"

"Well . . . we were sent by the Lady of the Lake. She lied to us and told us we were headed toward the Bleeding Stone--"

"Ah. I see where the confusion must have happened,” Erwen said. “The Lady Morgana was not with you when you visited the Lake of Avalon last night then, I take it?"

The tent went utterly quiet, Arthur didn't understand right away. A cricket chirped once, twice . . .

When the statement finally sunk in, Arthur spat out the small sip of water he'd just taken. The backwash landed all over Merlin.

"What exactly do you, uh, mean when you say . . . the Lady Morgana?" Merlin asked. His new book now laid forgotten on the table. Hell, Merlin was so distracted he hadn't even blinked when Arthur covered him with his spit.

As if reading his thoughts, Merlin frowned and wiped off his face, but didn't otherwise react.

Erwen sighed. "You must see reason now, Emrys--"

"Reason?" Merlin cried. "You're telling me that we came here with Morgana Pendragon last night and I'm supposed to see reason? There is no reason in that."

"You needed each other. You still do if you hope to stop this evil." Erwen paused and shot both Merlin and Arthur a firm look. “And I believe you underestimate Morgana’s willingness to forgive. She is not unlike a dagger. A great weapon for when emotions run high because she is the same on both sides. When she loves she loves and when she hates she hates, but she is always loyal to the hand that holds her.”

“That’s good,” Merlin said and he actually looked impressed. “Is that prophecy?”

“Oh! What? No,” Erwen shook his head quickly, a deep blushed covered his cheeks and he even giggled a bit. “You flatter me, Emrys.”

“For Gods sake,” Arthur burst. “You’re talking about a man that I’ve seen fall asleep on his horse at least a dozen times!”

“Yeah, I do!” Merlin shouted. “Probably because I’m tired from staying up all night cleaning up your messes!” 

“Nobody asked you to, you idiot! I’d rather you not actually. I’d rather you not lie to me. I’d rather you let me clean up my own messes and stay the hell out of my way,” Arthur hissed.

Erwen cleared his throat and Arthur broke his glaring match with Merlin and turned his glare on the Druid, but he was ignored completely as the Druid addressed Merlin. “I take it you haven’t informed--well, re-informed--King Arthur of the prophecy of the Once and Future King?”

“Er--no,” Merlin swallowed thickly even though he’d ceased eating minutes ago. “I--er--haven’t exactly had a chance--”

“Right,” Erwen said with a knowing smile. As he continued he beckoned another smaller Druid over and she handed him a book out of her bag. “Listen up then, sire, I do believe this is a story you wouldn’t want to miss . . . if your reaction to it last night can still be held as evidence, that is.”


	30. Chapter 30

Even though his subconscious eased as things fell into place, Arthur couldn't consciously wrap his head around it. Any of it. The tale he’d just been told was so achingly familiar but still so uncharted. A tale of his life, from birth until death, told from a point of view that wasn’t his own. As the Druid had read, Arthur found himself thankful that Merlin hadn’t tried to tell Arthur himself. Though the warlock sometimes had a way with words, Arthur certainly couldn’t have handled hearing it in great detail on top of everything else. Even the cryptic lines of poetry that fell from Erwen’s lips revealed too much.

Arthur had gathered that Merlin was _made_ for him. Well, that was at least how the author of the prophecy expressed Merlin’s birth and Merlin hadn’t batted an eye when he’d heard, though Arthur had blanched. The smooth flow of the story helped ease Arthur pretty quickly and he found himself almost amused at the irony it held.

One line was actually, “And the Lost King damned himself. For the magic of our world can neither be created nor destroyed as all the havoc and pain may have made it seem. Without the bodies of many, our magic found home in one.”

And Uther had been the first to suggest that that ‘one’ stood by Arthur’s side, hadn’t he?

_Oh father . . ._ Arthur had thought.

When the tale had finally ended, Arthur quickly suggested they next talk about Morgana.

Erwen had readily complied, but not without admitting that he didn’t know all of the details first. For some reason, he’d explained, when they’d showed up at the Druid camp last night, they’d had an unconscious and badly battered Morgana in tow.

The Druids had helped her heal, and when she awoke they all learned what had happened to her. Apparently she hadn't said much, but the gist of her tale had been that Camelot was set to be under attack. She said that earlier in the night she'd witnessed a spell. A dark spell, performed by a worshipper of the dark arts, and the results of it would be disastrous.

Morgana had figured out what the spell was, but she did not tell them. Later, Erwen had done his own research and he’d said that he believed the spell to be a conjuration to call forth a certain type of spirit. He couldn't tell them much about it because the Druids didn't approve of the study of such magic. Though, he’d said he believed that someone had succeeded in pulling a soul from the deepest depths of hell.

Morgana did say that she had been hurt on her search for a way to stop the demon. Initially, when the demon had first been summoned, Morgana faced it and nearly didn't escape with her life. She’d done enough damage to leave the demon with a wary impression of her however and, not long after she escaped, she found herself running for her life again. Morgana had to find a way to stop it or she would die. Last night, the throne of Camelot was the last thing on Morgana Pendragon's mind.

Or so said the Druid leader. If Arthur was trusting _those_ now.

"The plan she had was better than any I could think of," Erwen finished.

Merlin opened his mouth a few times, but closed it just as many. Merlin looked like he had a million questions that he didn't want to ask on the tip of his tongue. Arthur knew the feeling. Finally Merlin managed something, though it seemed to be the furthest thing on his mind.

"The . . . books?" Merlin asked lamely.

"Ah. Yes, yes," Erwen sent Merlin a kind smile. "They were made especially for you. We had planned to send them to Camelot by horse in a few days time."

"But why?"

"The king of Camelot highly requested it."

"Yeah, yeah," Merlin sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Why not?" He seemed to adapt Arthur’s deflection strategy. "Now, Freya said that the demons were after the people of Camelot’s souls. What can you tell us about this?”

“There is little works about demons and hell in our texts. The only book we have is that one,” Erwen pointed to the one that laid on the table between them. “And even it is sparse with details. From what I could understand though, demons are souls that were long ago sent to hell. They are the Undergods footsoldiers. I can only assume the demon wishes to damn all the souls it can. To broaden hell’s army with the citizens of Camelot.”

Arthur nodded dumbly. He couldn’t stop staring at Merlin. The warlock hadn’t looked at Arthur once. He’d dropped his eyes and wouldn’t look at anyone. Merlin seemed like he couldn’t decide which emotion he should let set his face. It took nearly a minute of silence but anger won.

Erwen was a lot braver than Arthur initially gave him credit for. Either that, or the Druid didn’t know Merlin as well as his stupid nickname for the warlock seemed to imply. Arthur rarely even messed with Merlin when he got _that_ look on his face. "Now before we take this conversation any further, I must ask, the tattoos . . ?" Erwen looked especially wary and the bottom of Arthur's stomach dropped as he realized what was about to fall from the Druid man’s lips.

The stupid, stupid man! Arthur would have shouted just that, and about a thousand other profanities, if he could’ve made his mouth move.

Arthur’s head whipped around instead. He wanted to study Merlin as Erwen dropped the surprise Arthur had been dreading. However, Merlin looked right back at Arthur with that same horrified look he’d worn this morning as they changed--

And bloody Gods.

Arthur had one too, didn’t he?

As Arthur thought over the possibilities of what could mark his bum, the rest of Arthur’s stomach dropped and Arthur was sure his organ had made a mess of the floor. Arthur Pendragon, dead from shock in the middle of a Druid camp.

_Please just don’t let it be a Druid mark_ , Arthur silently prayed.


	31. Chapter 31

Turned out the tattoos had been a necessity. The ink was the only reason the demons could not sense them by their souls. Gwaine had a rather unfortunate red apple over his heart, Morgana had gone with a small black snake coiled around her wrist and Arthur had gone with a . . . falcon. Of sorts.

After the mirror had been brought in the tent, Arthur and Merlin had both stared quietly at the reflection of their marked up bums for a few long moments. Though, where Arthur was content to pull up his pants, sigh, and pretend he was waiting for the earth to swallow him whole, Merlin, well, wasn’t.

Merlin was quite angry and Arthur had never wanted to murder a Druid man that badly before.

Arthur was starting to view magic users in a new light. Evil? Maybe. Simple? Almost always.

"Why would you let us do this?!" Merlin yelled at the cowering Druid man and Arthur wasn’t about to intervene. Gwaine seemed to have the same idea: leave the man to drown, the poor bastard brought it on himself. "I mean, in what bloody world would it be even partially acceptable to tattoo a merlin on the King of Camelot's arse?!"

"The ink was the best means of protection we could think of and I thought--I thought," Erwen babbled. "I thought your time had finally come! I thought that I was helping Emrys unite Albion! The Lady Morgana said--"

"Of course she did," Merlin sighed. "Because why the hell not!? Bloody Morgana." 

Merlin flew to his feet and pushed his way out of the tent. Arthur was hot on his heels but it was hard to keep up as all the Druids seemed to have the same idea. Arthur stayed within a close enough distance that he could hear as Merlin continued though.

"Why in the hell not?! Hell is here apparently anyway, so why not?" Merlin continued to stalk forward until he'd reached the open center of the camp. Then he stopped and glared up at the sky. Most of the Druids fell off to the side. They started to form a circle around the scene, and Gwaine joined them, but Arthur stayed up with Merlin. Although he stopped a few feet short as Merlin began to shout again.

"How do you expect me to deal with this, huh?" Merlin seemed to be addressing the sky, which Arthur easily decided was a normal Merlin thing to do. The sky, however, seemed to react, which was most definitely not normal by any means.

“I should just give up now!” Merlin shouted and the sky darkened. "I should just drag Arthur out of here and never look back. This will never work." A shiver ran down Arthur’s spine as the wind started to pick up around them. An angry sob broke free from Merlin’s throat as he shouted, “Screw Albion!” Merlin fell to his knees and the sky suddenly lit with a bright white flash of lightning. “I didn’t come all this way just to lose Arthur’s kingdom!” Merin argued incoherently as rain began to pour. “But I will not lose him.”

Something in Arthur snapped.

“Merlin! _Mer_ lin!” Arthur yelled as he approached the warlock and bent down next to him. He grabbed Merlin by the face and made the warlock look at him before he continued. “Stop it. Everything will be alright. It will.”

It took him a minute to calm down but Merlin eventually sniffed out, “You . . . you really think so?”

Arthur hadn’t a bloody clue, but he would have done damn near anything to wipe that look off of Merlin’s face, so he nodded and Merlin slowly started to nod along with him.

“Do you think maybe you could make it stop raining then, _Mer_ lin?”

Merlin looked at him with wide blue eyes. For a second his neck tensed like he was about to nod, but then he lunged forward and brought their lips together. Merlin’s lips were chapped and tasted of salt. As Arthur deepened the kiss he could feel the rain start to soften on the back of his armor. By the time Arthur pulled away the sky was clear.

He brought a hand up and thumbed across Merlin’s wet cheek. “Its going to be okay. All of it,” he assured.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin murmured and he turned away suddenly, a warm flush flooded his face.

“Shh,” Arthur soothed and then he stood up and held out a hand for Merlin to take. “Shall we go talk to Erwen then? Do some magic? Maybe apologize? Find that dreadful long lost sister of mine?”

Merlin took his hand and pulled himself up. “You’re not like, scared of me then? Huh?” he asked.

Arthur snorted.


	32. Chapter 32

For all Merlin pestered Arthur about sincere apologies, the warlock himself seemed quite bad at them this time. Erwen was all too happy to accept the pathetic attempt anyway though.

Doing a spell pretty much turned out to be everything Arthur ever thought it’d be. There was chanting, flashing eyes, fire, and herbs that smelled absolutely terrible. What did surprise Arthur though was how the Druids expected Merlin to perform all the magic.

“Emrys,” Erwen said. “We have everything ready for you.”

“Um,” Merlin said as he walked in the small tent--it was a purple one this time--and took in the items that were spread out on the table.

“What is it?” Arthur whispered as he nudged Merlin’s side, but the warlock stayed in place and continued to eye the platter of ingredients in front of him warily.

“I . . . uh . . .” Merlin trailed off, then started up again and sounded more confident. “I’ve never done a tracking spell before.”

All the Druids in the tent raised their eyebrows.

“ _Mer_ lin.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “You just had a tantrum and made bloody lightning come from the sky . . . I think you can handle a simple spell.” Arthur waved a hand toward the items and added, “Surely.”

Merlin turned to glare at him.

“I was not having a tantrum!” Merlin argued. “And that’s different anyway! It’s hard for me not to control the weather, because I’ve been doing it since I was young! And today has just been really crazy! But . . . things like this,” Merlin gestured to the table, “I have no practice at. Like, at all.”

“Why not—” Arthur cut himself off. “Don’t answer that,” he drawled before he turned to the Druids who'd been quietly studying them. “You will show him how to do it. Now,” he snapped when nobody seemed to move.

The tent was suddenly a flurry of motion and magic. Arthur zoned it out and focused on Aithusa. She looked tired but continued to flap around the small space and laugh as she messed with Arthur for a while. When the dragon finally yawned, wrapped herself around Arthur’s neck, and fell asleep Arthur tuned back into the world around him.

“—since she hasn’t taken any potion, a less reliable technique will have to be used,” the Druid man was explaining. Arthur half took in an awed Merlin and half took in Gwaine as the knight made eyes with some Druid girl. A few minutes passed and Arthur realized that he had been sharing looks back and forth with Merlin in nearly the same manner that Gwaine and the girl had been. Luckily, they were soon ready to start the spell . . .

Because Arthur didn’t think he could have stopped looking over at Merlin like that even if he tried.


	33. Chapter 33

Merlin took a bowl of oily liquid and mashed up herbs and poured them over a large rectangle piece of parchment. The contents spilled out quickly and streamed in rolling patterns along the page. It seemed very non-magical. At first.

Merlin had already started to grab up the parchment which Arthur assumed had the spell written on it. As he did this though, he absently swept an arm over the mess. He was close but not touching. Still, the oily liquid seemed to move at Merlin's command without question. The substance quickly spread itself evenly across the page. Arthur felt a bit strange in an undefinable way as he watched how the tiny green flecks of herbs spun speedily around and around, and danced inside the oil.

The feeling only grew as Merlin proceeded.

The strange words rolled off Merlin’s tongue like he’d said them many times before, even though Arthur hadn’t seen him practice once. When he was done his eyes flashed gold and the oiled parchment caught fire. The whole thing seemed to go up in flames at the same time, but it dwindled back down just as quickly. The flames left a beautiful pattern made of greens and blues and browns in it’s wake. After a moment of staring, Arthur realized it was a map of Albion, and one of the most intricate ones he’d ever seen. He hadn’t even known maps could hold so much detail.

Merlin chose a smaller bowl off the table next. With what Arthur thought looked like great disgust, Merlin picked up what seemed to be an used bandage and dropped it in the bowl.

“What was that?” Arthur whispered, too interested to stay quiet.

“Morgana’s bloody rags,” Merlin drawled tonelessly.

“Lovely.”

Merlin looked like he fully agreed with Arthur’s sarcasm, but he continued the spell in favor of answering. Arthur realized the strange feeling was back before he’d even realized it had gone.

Merlin sat the bowl back down and held an open hand over it as he picked up the parchment and continued to read. When Merlin pulled his hand away again the bowl started to smoke. The color of it was strangely dark. The warlock picked the bowl up when the smoke died down and tipped it until a small, blood red stream started to flow out and splattered against the page. Instead of dumping it and using his magic to even it out like he had before, Merlin continued to move the bowl about, trying to get as much of the parchment wet with it as he could.

When the red liquid had run out, Merlin read the last part of the spell and let his eyes flash gold one last time.

Arthur was in awe as he watched the red stains come alive. The splatters swirled and contorted about the page, coming together and apart in new places. At first they moved slowly, but they soon picked up pace and seemed almost to throb excitedly with their movement. Finally, the red swirls started to slow once more, and then they began to disappear altogether until all that was left was a map and one thin red line that traveled across it.

The tension racked over Arthur’s body then. A thin red line. That was all that stood between him and a reunion with his sister who kept trying to kill him. Merlin looked just as tense though, and that sort of had Arthur easing a bit.

Surely if Merlin could once again face the force that was Morgana Pendragon after he’d poisoned her, Arthur could man up and face her as well. 

Oh, yes. After he’d heard the prophecy and thought over it some, Arthur had figured that bit out along with some other things. By himself, he might add, which proved that he wasn’t completely dense after all . . . 

Just severely ill-informed. He'd argue that even on his deathbed.


	34. Chapter 34

A few questions came to Arthur's mind as they rode toward Morgana.

"I've seen you get upset before," Arthur started and he belatedly realized he’d said the words out loud. "I mean, you've never had a problem controlling the weather before . . ?"

Merlin sighed. His hot breath was so close that Arthur could feel it on his neck. He had to stop himself from leaning back into Merlin.

"My magic's weird today," he replied. "From the moment I woke it was a bit . . . wild. Like how it was when I was younger. Before I knew how to focus it."

After that, Gwaine and Merlin chatted a bit and Arthur absently listened, but he couldn’t bring himself out of his own mind enough to actually hold any kind of conversation. There was much too much for Arthur to think about. He thought of steaming hot baths and conveniently snapping tree branches and that damned blue ball of light. Mostly, though, Arthur found himself thinking about Merlin’s life before Camelot. He wondered what it had been like. The image he’d held before had been skewed. What he’d once even thought of as a peaceful and easy upbringing, he now thought of as a struggle. Arthur couldn’t imagine ever having to hide one of his talents. He’d always made sure to show off his skills. Arthur thought of Hunith and how scared she must have been. He imagined her, in that smooth, sweet motherly tone, as she’d explained to her only son why he couldn’t be himself. Arthur wondered how bad it hurt her to teach Merlin how to hide.

Then Arthur thought of Will and realized he didn’t want to think anymore. Luckily, Arthur’s musings had taken up nearly all the time and Merlin soon called out for them to stop.

They approached the castle warily after they’d tied up their horses a bit ways off in the forest. In all honesty, the castle seemed more like a cave to Arthur. It was large, and was made from strong stone, but it was built into the side of a large mountain. It also had no visible doors. Just one big gaping hole that led them into the dark.

Arthur had watched in amusement as Merlin hissed at Aithusa in that strange language of theirs, but he was grateful when she actually flew close to them as they made their way further into the darkness.

They were stopped three times by demons on the way. First by a group of two, then three, and two again. Each wore one of Arthur's men and it pained him to see them as they howled and writhed in pain from Merlin's spells. The warlock had assured Arthur he'd only used non-lethal ones though, so they had to move quickly.

When they finally came to the three way fork where the map ended, they had to stop and regroup. Gwaine and Arthur covered Merlin as the warlock closed his eyes and, as Merlin claimed, 'searched through the path ahead.'

When they finally managed to reach Morgana, she was in a horrible state. Chained to the wall while both dried and fresh blood heavily covered the middle of her gown. Merlin tried to break the cuffs with his magic, only to be thrown back on his arse from the rebound. It took Arthur and Gwaine nearly five times as long but they eventually broke the metal with the hilts of their swords. Despite her freedom, the wounds on Morgana’s sides nearly prevented her from standing and they were almost dragging her out. Even in this state she still tried to stop Arthur as he led her back toward the entrance.

“The keys,” she winced. “We must go back for them.”

Merlin and Arthur found each other’s gaze and Merlin seemed to be thinking the same thing. Merlin shuffled closer and took Morgana’s other arm. They ignored her protest and made their way back out of the cave--er--castle. The damn wretched place.

By the time they'd reached the horses, Morgana seemed much better. She pushed Arthur off and rounded on Merlin.

“You idiot!” She shouted and punched Merlin square in the nose. The warlock went down in blur of limbs.

She then turned to Arthur and he braced himself, but instead of her fist Morgana threw Arthur against the closest tree with a flick of her wrist. “You knew how important those keys were, you big headed pig!” she yelled. “What? Do you want that evil bitch on your throne? Killing off each and everyone of your people!?”

And, really? What was Arthur supposed to say to that? His mind was five minutes behind his mouth, caught up in reasoning. The words he said had come like instinct though.

“Yes, Morgana,” Arthur growled as he pushed himself back up. “That’s exactly what I want. Sounds like dream come true.”

“Oh, grow up!” she shouted.

Then she blinked like she hadn’t quite meant to say exactly that. Arthur supposed old habits died hard for everyone.

“Morgana,” Merlin called out in a nasally tone and Arthur’s attention snapped to him. He was quite the sight. The warlock had streams of blood running over his lips and chin, and even more twigs stuck in his hair.

Merlin staggered up. He held his nose with one hand and stretched the other one out toward Morgana. Merlin’s fingers weren’t quite flexed but, mixed with the look in his eye, Arthur knew the gesture wasn’t a friendly one. “What keys?” Merlin asked once they’d shared a moment of hate-filled glares.

Morgana eyed Merlin for a long time and a ridiculous amount of expressions passed over her face as she did. She seemed confused, then angry, and then skeptical. She spent a few moments looking at both Gwaine and Arthur in the same manner before she finally turned back to Merlin.

Morgana brought fingers to her temples and rubbed hard. She shook her head incredulously and then startled them all by letting out a howling peel of laughter that sounded completely evil . . . until she started to snort.


	35. Chapter 35

“My . . . life,” Morgana breathed in between her laughter, which honestly sounded more like a series of wheezes at this point. “Of course . . . you don’t . . . remember. Only . . . my . . . bloody . . . life.”

“Yes, right . . .” Arthur drawled. “How could I have forgotten?” Arthur gestured wildly toward the witch. “She’s gone mad!”

Morgana sighed and waved him off with a flap of her wrist. Arthur cringed and braced himself to be thrown against a tree, but the blow never came.

“You’d be mad too, my dear brother, if you had my problems.”

“Yes. We heard from the Druids,” Merlin said quickly. “But what I want to know is why you were with _her_?”

Arthur hadn’t a clue who Merlin was referring to, but he got the distinct impression Morgana didn’t either. Of course, the unknown had never shut Morgana up before, so why would it now?

“What? Don’t believe I wasn’t the one who summoned it, _Emrys_?” Merlin flinched and Morgana continued, “Oh, that’s right, Merlin, I know. Do I bloody know . . .”

“I didn’t actually think that,” Merlin said. “I mean, I’m not too sure how it works but I’m pretty sure you couldn’t have been the one who summoned it, right?”

Morgana considered Merlin for a moment before she replied. “You know, I think you might live up to your beard.”

Merlin snorted very dryly.

Arthur caught Gwaine’s gaze and he met Arthur’s helpless shrug with one of his own.

“I was actually wondering something else, but . . . its not important right now I suppose,” Merlin said. “What about these keys?”

Morgana looked completely irritated with them--and her whole life--but she started to explain. Turned out the keys she spoke of were actually the two companions of the stone Merlin found in Arthur’s bed this morning. Together, the three stones worked like a key apparently. A key that unlocked some sort of magical garden of all powerful sorcery or something.

Arthur decided he was completely over all things magic for the moment and blocked as much talk of it as he could out. Weird stones. Markings. Really powerful. They needed them. He was good to go.

“It surely has them under it’s closest watch,” Morgana was saying when Arthur tuned back in. Arthur belatedly realized she’d been glaring at him as she spoke. “Even more so now that it’s had time to be alerted of my escape.”

“Right then,” Merlin nodded. He looked disturbingly unconcerned about this fact. “And you’re sure there’s no other way?”

“Unless, you’ve got any bright ideas, Emrys?” Morgana arched a brow in Merlin’s direction. “Then, yes, I’m sure.”

“Fine, I will go get them,” Merlin declared easily.

Arthur snorted. “What? By yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” Merlin insisted.

“I’m at least going with you,” Arthur argued. “Gwaine can stay here with Morgana.”

“No, Arthur.”

“What? Still trying to keep your little secret, Merlin?” Morgana hissed before Arthur had a chance to reply. He kept trying to open his mouth to speak but the conversation in front of him happened so quickly he couldn’t get a word in.

“I was going to tell him--”

Morgana was livid as she cut him off, “That’s just great, Emrys. Here I am, thinking I’m safe, when I should be--”

“Wait,” Merlin said as he shook his head back and forth, confused. “Arthur knows I’m a warlock, Morgana.”

“Then what--oh.” Realization seemed to dawn over Morgana features, and Arthur almost thought she started looking a bit pitiful. “I’ll go with you.”

“First of all,” Arthur started. “You’re hurt. Second of all, I’m seriously running out of patience, Merlin. There’s only so many secrets I can deal with.”

“Arthur--”

Morgana spoke over Merlin. “It will not change things, whether you know right now or not. You shouldn't go. It can wait until after. Besides, I’m pretty much healed if you hadn’t noticed.” Morgana grabbed Merlin by the arm suddenly and hauled him close. Then, with a dramatic sweep of dust and wind, Merlin and Morgana disappeared right in front of Arthur’s eyes.

**~ -- ~**

_Cain._ The sudden jolt through his connection with Abaddon sent the shouted syllable of his name ringing through his skull. Cain instantly felt every ounce of her anger. His mark burned hot as Abaddon continued.

_Now. You must come now_ , she demanded and Cain knew then and there that gaining the souls of Camelot was a lost cause. _They have all three stones and the witch. The only way we will win is if you come up here. Cain, you must come up here. I will summon you._

Cain sighed. He still stood on the shore and looked out at the same lake. Since Abaddon had been summoned, 120 days passed and Cain had not moved from that spot. At what would have been ten in the morning in Camelot was when the skies started to brighten where Cain lived. This never wavered. Every day at ten the skies opened up, bled with a rusty red glow, and painted the landscape around Cain viciously hot. Throughout the day the lake grew warmer until the rotting souls that swam in it boiled. When the heat came the noise followed. That scraping music they all loved so much, screams, and howling laughter were a constant disturbance in the air until the skies closed again. At what would have been three in the afternoon in Camelot the skies pulled closed like thick black drapes and left all inhabitants to blindly prowl in the icy darkness.

He wanted nothing more than to leave. Still, he knew he could not.

“I cannot join you,” Cain said. “I do not fault you for this loss. You will wrap things up and head home now.”

_I will not_ , Abaddon spat. _There are many things you can make me do, but run like a coward isn’t one of them. If you will not join me I will lead my knights into battle alone._

“The odds against you are high.”

_They would stand no chance against you_ , she countered.

“Maybe,” Cain sighed again. “Still, I cannot come. You know I am not strong like you. If you let me out now, you may never get me back.”

_I would drag you back regardless_ , Abaddon hissed.

“And that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Abaddon stayed quiet. Cain knew she understood. When he had the blade in his grasp she was no match. If he got out, he knew he would kill before he went back. It had happened plenty of times before and the earthly realm as it now was was no place for something like Cain.

_I’m still fighting._

“I know.” Cain absently shook his head. “I know.”


	36. Chapter 36

Arthur was trailing his fingers along Aithusa’s scales and sharing a worried look with Gwaine when the sound of strong winds came from the forest behind them. He whipped around to find Merlin and Morgana practically hopping out of the windstorm hand and hand, and sprinting toward them.

They broke apart only when they’d nearly reached the horses. While Merlin and a surprisingly observant Aithusa tugged a dumbfounded Arthur onto their horse, Morgana opted to jump on the other one and levitate a dumbfounded Gwaine behind her. He landed flat on his belly with his bum in the air but they took off anyway. Eventually, he got himself righted.

In his haste, Merlin had somehow managed to sneak into the front spot of their saddle as well. Arthur wasn’t . . . pleased, per say. The new arrangement wouldn’t be a permanent one or anything, but Arthur could appreciate the feel of Merlin’s bum pressed against him for a change instead of the other way around. Besides, Merlin had such a thin waist. It was perfect to grab onto.

Merlin seemed to give Morgana all lead, and Arthur started to hope they weren’t just riding aimlessly and that the two of them had worked out a place to retreat already. When Morgana took a sharp turn to the right suddenly, Arthur’s fears resided. Apparently, she knew where she wanted to go.

Aithusa, soared straight and efficiently through the air just low enough that she barely had to duck or climb for any tree limbs. For once, she wasn’t riding over Arthur’s horse, and had instead taken place nearly at the lead, stationed right above Morgana’s head.

Arthur probably would have felt a little jealousy if he hadn’t gotten lost on how graceful and beautiful Aithusa looked as she flew. Arthur couldn’t believe something like that could want someone like him to care for it.

They rode for nearly a half in hour without slowing, but Merlin relaxed back against Arthur after the first few minutes, so Arthur figured they weren’t being followed. They turned left, then right, and jumped over a creek. Then they turned right and left again, and when they finally slowed Arthur hadn’t a clue where they were.

After tying up the horses, Morgana unlocked the door to the small cottage she’d led them to and welcomed them inside.

It was a plain old cottage with a fireplace, lots of book shelves, and a little sitting area filled with a table and chairs. Arthur had expected something much different. Like an evil fortress of darkness or something. 

Once they were all in, she lead them to the table. As they plopped into the chairs around it, Merlin asked, “I thought we were going to your place? That shack? This is yours too?”

“It is--it was my sisters,” Morgana said stiffly as she blinked at Merlin. The warlock flinched and he seemed to find the wooden table very interesting suddenly. “Merlin, look, you--you said things last night, and I just--”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered suddenly. “I’m so, so sorry, Morgana. I’ve done wrong by you so many times. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to help but I was scared. And then you kept trying to kill Arthur!” Merlin had gotten much louder. “And I--I just couldn’t lose him and you wouldn’t _stop_.”

“Fear pushes the best of us to do unimaginable things,” Morgana said. Merlin’s eyes snapped up and he met her gaze. All was quiet as they studied each other. After hearing the prophecy, Arthur had more of an idea of the tension between them and he wasn’t about to get in the middle of it so he stayed quiet. 

Morgana sighed and looked away first. She tugged a small leather bag from the folds of her skirts and pulled out the stones one by one.

When Morgana set the last stone down on the table they began to glow, and their strange color started to look more and more like the woman’s eyes. The colors swirled in and out gaining transition speed as Arthur watched.

Merlin said, “wow,” and Arthur’s eyes snapped to him. He looked entranced by the stones, even went as far as to reach out with his hand. Letting his long fingers spread wide, he hovered over them. Merlin’s eyes soon fluttered closed.

“You said you could feel them . . . how?” Arthur asked Merlin, and for some reason his voice was a little scratchy, thick.

Morgana was the one who answered. “They feel like magic,” she deadpanned and Arthur frowned at her.

“And what does that feel like?” He prompted.

“Pure evil.” Morgana smirked and Merlin groaned, and tore his hand away from the stones. His eyes were already open again when Arthur looked back toward him.

“Come on, you witch,” Merlin hissed and took a step toward her. “I’m trying to save our kind here.”

Morgana laughed. “You might be safe now, but do you honestly think you can fix him? Do you even know what kinds of things he did to our kind before you met him? There was a reason I was so scared, you know, and it wasn’t only Uther.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why?” she sneered. “Because the great Emrys says so?” Merlin opened his mouth to reply but Morgana didn’t give him a chance. “What makes you think he’ll even want to change once he’s got his precious kingdom back?”

Merlin glared. His teeth steadily grinded harder together as they continued to stare at one another.

Suddenly Morgana laughed, and Arthur could tell that she was actually pleased.

“You may forget, but I remember last night perfectly clear. And I know that you don’t really care about the prophecies at all, do you, Merlin?” she asked. “Bugger Albion . . . you just want him to love you back.”

Arthur nearly choked on thin air.

“Right,” Arthur coughed out. He couldn’t even tell if he was blushing because his whole body suddenly felt hot. “So . . .” Arthur started lamely, “how about those rocks then.”

“They are not rocks!” Merlin and Morgana shouted at the same time. Arthur threw his hands up in defense.

While Merlin’s attention snapped back to the stones, Morgana smirked in Arthur’s direction. “What, dear brother?” she asked. “It’s not like I didn’t watch the two of you suck each other’s guts out through your mouths for three hours straight last night.”

Arthur didn’t blush in front of Morgana. He didn’t.

Before anyone could comment, Morgana did again. “Too bad you can’t use them. I’d love to see what they could do with your kind of power. Honestly,” Morgana said as she let her hand hover over Merlin’s long fingers. The action caused the stones to glow brighter and change faster.

“Are you saying Merlin’s more powerful than you?” Arthur questioned with a raised brow. Morgana was never one to lose. Or admit it if she had.

Morgana ignored Arthur and shot Merlin an arched brow. “Being modest now are we, Emrys? Well, not so much last night--”

“Alright, we need a plan!” Merlin cut in loudly and Arthur rolled his eyes, but he fully agreed so he let the topic of Merlin’s magical prowess drop.

“First things first,” Morgana had Arthur pinned down with that pitiful look again and Arthur could practically feel how tense Merlin grew suddenly. “I think we need to have a little conversation about queen bitch.”


	37. Chapter 37

They’d just finished off the plan, and Arthur felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth as he ate the food Merlin and Morgana had competed over cooking for them. For the first time all day, Arthur felt content. He might have just witnessed his sister and--and his--his-- _Merlin_ cooking and magic-ing together, but the food was quite good and Arthur felt strangely calm. This was something he knew. Plans, strategies, these were within Arthur’s comfort zone. Even though this plan involved sorcery, Arthur still felt more confident now that they had one. Everything would be okay, Arthur told himself. It didn’t really matter that the demon was wearing Guinevere, he told himself. If the plan worked, they wouldn’t have to kill Guinevere or any of his knights, just fight until Morgana had pulled the last demonic soul out of their bodies. If the plan didn’t work then they were all doomed anyway. It was all or nothing. One wouldn’t think it, but a strange sort of peace came with this knowledge of such a chanced fate.

Arthur had just caught Morgana giving him a knowing smirk, and was busying glaring at her when suddenly he heard shuffling and looked up to find Merlin standing up, his posture uneasy.

“Merlin?” Arthur questioned.

“Have to pee,” Merlin claimed.

Arthur frowned as Merlin started to clamor out of their safe zone. “Merlin, wait!” He called. “You shouldn’t be out there by yourself.”

Arthur had already set his food down, but Merlin stopped him from standing as he said, “No, Arthur. I can take care of myself, please.”

Arthur frantically tried to think of a logical reason to why Merlin shouldn’t go by himself but he couldn’t find one. By the time he opened his mouth to protest anyway, Merlin was already gone.

“Bloody idiot,” Arthur mumbled. “If he’s not back here in five minutes I’m going after him.”

“Give him some time, Arthur,” Gwaine said around a mouthful of rabbit. “He's safe for now and he probably needs to be alone . . . figure some things out.”

“What _things_?” Arthur asked because that was just about the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Arthur had things to think about. All the things. After all, he’d sent his future wife out to die and now she really was on the brink of it, all the while Arthur had been worried about sticking his cock in a warlock. Merlin, on the other hand, had almost all his problems sorted with the making of their plan. Arthur figured if anyone should be more content, it should be Merlin.

Well, besides Gwaine of course. Who, quite frankly, looked the most content all sprawled out on Morgana’s floor with his large plate of warm food.

“Don’t be dense, Arthur,” Morgana hissed and rolled her eyes. Arthur could tell she was interested though, because she set down her plate as well. “It’s quite unbecoming of a king.”

“I’m not dense!” Arthur glared at her, she merely raised an eyebrow in reply. “What could he possibly have to think about out there that he couldn’t think about in here? Where he’s safe?”

Morgana just continued to eye him, utterly unimpressed. _Good old Morgana._

Well, Arthur wouldn’t stoop to her level. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was bloody king. Arthur tore his eyes from Morgana, gritted his teeth, and looked toward Gwaine for an explanation.

“Other than everything that happened today . . .” Gwaine trailed off as he gave Arthur a brow that Arthur thought was supposed to mean something. Arthur couldn’t be too sure what though. “Well, you two haven’t talked about Gwen, have you?”

“Why?” Arthur asked. It was true, after they’d explained to Arthur what happened, he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, because it seemed pointless to him. What they’d needed was a plan, not a pity party.

“Merlin’s probably thinking you two will make up—”

“Men,” Morgana huffed. “I swear. I haven’t been around Merlin for years, so how is it I can still read him better than the either of you two? Merlin has much more to worry about than whether or not Arthur will choose Gwen over him. Matter of fact, he’s probably worried that if we manage to pull this off, Arthur won’t choose Gwen over him.”

“How do you figure?” Arthur questioned.

“Merlin has been setting his stones for a long time, boys,” Morgana explained, her face was completely blank suddenly, but Arthur knew her too well. He could tell the thought of Merlin doing that angered her. “As you know, he’s been told of the future he is supposed to pave the way toward . . . just think about that for a second. Merlin wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize your destiny. Even if, deep down, all he really wants is to be with you. Why do you think he got so mad earlier when I was teasing him? Because he thinks he’ll ruin things for you, Arthur.”

Arthur blinked at her and shook his head. He didn’t understand. “How would us being together jeopardize anything?”

“Gwen is Camelot’s true queen,” Morgana said through gritted teeth and then took a few deep breaths. “It’s been foreseen that she will be the one to rule by your side.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Arthur found himself saying even though a few lines of the prophecy suddenly made more sense. It wasn’t just ridiculous because of Gwen and Lance either. Thinking about anyone at his side besides Merlin was strange. Sure, he’d thought about Gwen becoming queen quite a lot, but he’d never thought about it like that. He didn’t think about Gwen going into battle next to him, or training with him when he really just needed something to swing at. Arthur didn’t know much about prophecies, but he would have thought Merlin would be the one foreseen to be by his side.

As if reading his thoughts, Morgana continued, “It’s not ridiculous to Merlin.” Morgana spoke quietly. “I can assure you. He takes it quite seriously. As do most of us.”

“You?” Arthur asked.

“I’m actually not too sure anymore. Emrys is meant to be my enemy.” Morgana finally tore her eyes off of Arthur and looked at the floor. “Last night changed a lot.”

“You can say that again,” Arthur added wryly.

“You realize you three acted as complete fools right?” Morgana said with a smirk, her tone lighter.

Arthur snorted. “I realize,” he said. Then he stood and brushed off his trousers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me--”

“Arthur.” Morgana called to him as he walked toward the door. When he turned to face her she continued, “The reason I’m reconsidering things is because I’ve always believed drunk tongues speak the truth, and I’ve yet to be proved wrong.”

Arthur nodded and began to turn again. “Oh, and Arthur,” Morgana called halting him once more. “Last time I checked most people have two sides. A left and a right. One usually works better than the other, but it’s hard to survive without both.”

Arthur took in his sister for a moment. Everything about her was so familiar, but still so foreign. He wanted to believe that she was being sincere. That she’d just given him a glimpse into her advanced knowledge he hadn’t asked for, like old times.

Arthur nodded and then, for reasons his own brain couldn’t work out, Arthur did something he’d never done before when given this rare chance.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he turned around and walked out the door, and into the dark forest.


	38. Chapter 38

Merlin was easy for Arthur to find. Luckily, the warlock hadn’t been trying to hide his obnoxious trail. Arthur realized he was smiling as he walked by and eyed a fresh track. It truly seemed that Merlin really was the same. Arthur had been so scared and hurt, he thought the person he knew, his Merlin, had simply been a made-up front. Though, it seemed the parts that Arthur valued the most about Merlin remained the same. Since the reveal, Arthur had been studying Merlin absently, consciously, and obviously. Over this short, insanely bizarre amount of time, he’d had the urge to call Merlin girly, clumsy, and simple quite a few times each. So the normal amounts, if not a bit more. It was like their first years all over again. Arthur followed the trail out of the cave and through the woods, until he finally found Merlin at the edge of a creek.

Knelt down, Merlin just stared at the water. He seemed very distracted so Arthur took a few steps closer. Arthur couldn’t have stopped himself from staring at Merlin’s form. The way the moonlight lit up the forest around them and reflected off the water made Merlin look unexplored in the best ways. Only the good ways. He looked open and void of any mystery. Like a perfect place to stop and make camp for the night. His pale skin seemed impossibly smooth, yet marble-hard, and his eyes were cold and grey. Merlin looked better than a safe place for camping. Merlin looked like a place that Arthur could have set up camp for years. Like a place Arthur could have planted his flag and built his kingdom upon.

The next thing Arthur knew he’d leaned too far in, tripped over a tree root, and had fallen on his face.

“Who’s there?” Merlin hissed as he jumped to his feet and spun around. Arthur blinked the dirt out of his eyes and glared. The figure that loomed over Arthur already had one lanky limb and spidery appendages stretched toward him.

“Don’t get your skirts in a bunch, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said and then grunted as he sat up. Arthur swallowed as he eyed the shape above him. Merlin might have looked beautiful as he’d sat there, but at full height, over Arthur? Merlin looked like a force to be reckoned with. Even the moon behind Merlin seemed to light his shadowy figure in a way that had Arthur thinking the night itself was Merlin’s backup. Arthur’s heart started to hammer in his chest, but he wasn’t scared. Not at all. Still, his voice was thick and he had a hard time when he whispered out, “it’s just me.”

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered back, like it was a secret, and Arthur found himself grinning despite everything. Though, he quickly stopped once he’d realized. “You scared me!” Merlin declared with a huff.

Arthur snorted and got to his feet. “Sorry we can’t all be graceful wizards,” Arthur said as he pushed past Merlin and knelt by the creekside. He was eager to see what Merlin had been looking at. Although, when he got there all he saw was dark still water. Arthur frowned at it.

“Wow,” Merlin sighed as he joined Arthur and knelt by the creekside once more. “I knew things would change once you found out but never in my life would I have thought I’d hear you call me graceful.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered to Merlin’s face. As he thought back over the day and all the magic he’d witnessed Merlin do, Arthur realized how many things were wrong with that statement and, as he studied Merlin’s profile, Arthur could only think of one way to respond.

“So you really had planned on . . .” Arthur trailed off and gestured between them, “telling me, then? Someday, I mean. You were going to?”

“I thought about telling you every single day . . . probably since, well. Since the first time I saw you really.” Merlin smiled sheepishly, but quickly rolled his eyes. “Gods only know why but I could tell my magic liked you. My magic sometimes liked people—my mum, Gaius, Will, Freya. But with you it was just. Different. Because I knew getting wrapped up with you was a bad idea, but my magic didn’t care, and . . . I wanted—it wanted you to know. It always wanted you to see all the amazing things it did for you. It was hard for me to keep it in sometimes . . . I’d dream and wake up thinking I’d already told you, confused out of my mind sometimes.”

Merlin didn’t look Arthur’s way once as he said this. Arthur wanted to ask Merlin if they were really dreams, or rather nightmares? He held his tongue though. One day he would gather the courage to ask Merlin, and the warlock would reply with the same answer he would have anytime Arthur asked: just strange dreams. Arthur would know it was a lie, but the lie wouldn’t hurt and that was the most important part.

“Well . . .” Arthur sighed and a thick silence surrounded them. He didn’t stop staring at Merlin, and he knew that he should say something, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where to start.

“I’m not actually, you know,” Merlin said a bit later.

“What?” Arthur asked, so lost to his thoughts that at the statement his mind flashed completely blank.

“I’m not graceful at all,” Merlin explained and when he finally looked toward Arthur, the king saw that he wore a thoughtful expression on his face. “But I suppose I make up for it in other ways.”

“I bet if you didn’t have so much to worry about, then you’d be graceful all the time,” Arthur started and then bit his bottom lip to keep himself from saying anything else.

Merlin frowned and looked away again. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he wanted to know.

“I don’t know.” Arthur answered truthfully. Arthur hadn’t a clue himself. Perhaps it was the same reason why Arthur couldn’t have pulled his gaze away from Merlin if he’d tried. “I mean, I’m not stupid, Merlin. I’ve put some things together. In my head, I’m keeping a list. What I actually did by myself and what you did for me . . . and . . . I can’t help feeling like I owe you. A lot. More than I’ve ever had to give, in fact.”

Merlin threw him a glare out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t owe me anything, you prat,” he said. Then he seemed to soften and he sighed. “Well . . . besides your fair judgment. That’s really all that I’m owed.”

“You really believe that?”

Merlin nodded seriously. “It’s all I’ve wanted for quite a while now. I mean, sure, bringing back magic to Albion was important— _is_ important. Should be important. I just. My loyalty has always been to you, Arthur. Somewhere along the line I guess I realized that not even Albion came before that. So, yes. That’s all I want. Whether or not you’ll ever be able to accept magic back into the kingdom, I want your judgment. You now know all the things that I judge myself the harshest for and I want to know what kind of man you think I am.”

Arthur could have laughed at the absurdity of it—of Merlin in general. Any other person who had done as much as Merlin had for Camelot would have at the very least demanded a high-paid position in the court, treachery or not. No matter how much Merlin tried to hide it, Arthur wasn’t a fool. After all he’d seen this day he knew that Merlin was truly the type of powerful that no one else was and could have easily avoided any attempts at imprisonment or execution, and anybody else with his powers would have tried for glory before they ran. Only a loon wouldn’t have.

Case in point: Merlin.

Merlin, who didn’t even ask that Arthur stop prosecuting his kind. Merlin, who seemed to care more about his place at Arthur’s side than he did his own destiny.

The mere thought of having that much loyalty, that much devotion, and all from Merlin had a cold thrill rushing down his spine. The goosebumps on Arthur’s skin had him tingling to answer before he’d even thought of what he wanted to say.

This kind of loyalty was somehow different. Cleaning up after Arthur, feeding him, dressing him, those were all Merlin’s duties and Arthur had always thought of them as just that.

Arthur couldn’t understand why Merlin had given himself over so completely without the promise of anything in return. Much later, after he’d thought about it long and hard, Arthur realized that was kind of the whole point.

“I literally owe you not only my life fives times over, but my whole kingdom, too,” Arthur declared, incredulous. 

“I don’t want your kingdom,” Merlin replied firmly.

“I thought I’d earned it,” Arthur then said, rather lamely. He sighed. “I mean, I knew. Ever since that damned blue ball of light, I knew that I wasn’t just lucky. But at first I thought it was just the cave, then some sort of divine intervention, and then my . . . mother. That’s different from you helping me this whole time, Merlin.

“I just . . . still don’t get it . . .” Arthur trailed off and sighed again.

“Then look at it like this, you prat,” Merlin started, his voice playful but somehow still true. “I love you.”

Arthur startled like the words were a hard slap across his face. “You . . . love me?” he drawled slowly, testing the unbelievable words on his own tongue.

Merlin chuckled and said, “yes, okay, Arthur. I do.” Merlin smiled blindingly then, and Arthur thought that he might have actually been having a heart attack right there on the soggy creekside, but then Merlin continued and Arthur’s heart started to flutter anew, beating hard and fast against his rib cage. “I really, really do. I’ve been telling myself all these years that my priority was your destiny. Albion. But Gods, that’s not it.” Merlin shook his head sheepishly and even though Arthur couldn't see his blush in the moonlight, he could imagine it perfectly. “I do the things that I do because I love you more than anyone else. More than I’d ever thought was possible. And I don’t even care. I don’t need you to love me back, okay? Why would I need that?”

Arthur couldn’t have formed words, but luckily Merlin gestured a bit wildly and pressed on. “When I love you so much that nothing you could ever do would change how I feel. I love you when you’re shining in that special way that only you can manage. I love that look you get when you’re fighting for your kingdom . . . or even your pride.” Merlin rolled his eyes a bit at this but Arthur could tell that he truly meant everything he was saying. “I love you when you’re being a prat! I just. I love you. I do. And I would give you anything you asked for, even my head on a block if that’s what you ordered. I don’t have a choice anymore! It’s _so_ far past that. You own me. Run me. I love you in ways that just tear me apart, Arthur. And I’m done hiding it, lying to myself, lying to you . . . so. _Yes_. You are the only reason I get up in the mornings, okay? Making sure you’re happy is all that keeps me going. You are _everything_ \--”

“Merlin?” Arthur said, cutting the warlock off. “Shut up.”

Merlin’s mouth snapped shut and he eyed the water quickly, but not before Arthur had seen the intense hurt flash through his eyes. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Arthur said and he only caught a glimpse of Merlin’s surprise before he brought their lips together.

~--~

“She likes you,” said Gwaine, as he watched the little white dragon snuggle up in Morgana’s lap from his position on the floor. “She doesn’t like me too much I don’t think. Is it something to do with your magic?”

Morgana only glared at him hard and ignored the question. Instead she asked one of her own. “What about you, Gwaine? Remember anything important from last night?”

The knight sighed. He’d had a lot of hangover’s in his lifetime, but none of them had ever been this bad. Instead of muggy visions of the tavern and greasy women, his mind was filled with blankness and a vague feeling of dread. Then, of course, there were the dreams which still didn’t make any sense at all. Well, besides the pregnant Arthur part of them. 

“Not much,” Gwaine admitted. “Just the visions, but I’ll be damned if I know what they’re trying to tell me.”

“Tell me about them,” Morgana demanded, though she wore a knowing look that said she already knew something. It was a little frightening but Gwaine figured he didn’t have much to lose. Before he could have given his answer though, Morgana continued, “I have a rather lot of experience in depicting one’s inner mind.”

“Gods, that must be terrible.” Gwaine groaned as her meaning became clear. He couldn’t even picture what it would have been like to have dreams that actually meant something for his whole entire life. He was beyond tired of it after one day and wished for simpler times when he dreamed only of pie and cheese and good ale.

“It’s not so bad,” Morgana drawled easily. “Now spill.”

“Well . . .” Gwaine started. “Arthur was pregnant, which I sort of get has to do with the baby dragon in your lap, but . . . then Percival will show up and chuck apples at me and run away. I never catch him though. It always seems like he’s one step ahead of me and I don’t even know why I care but it feels like I have to.”

“Hmmm,” Morgana hummed and seemed to contemplate her answer. “In my experience, what you’re feeling when you dream cannot deceive you. If you're aroused then you’re aroused. If you’re terrified than you truly are terrified . . . and would be outside of your dream as well.” 

“How does that help?” Gwaine asked. 

“It proves that you really do care about catching yourself one burly knight, Sir Gwaine,” Morgana smirked. “And that you know somewhere in that head of yours exactly why that is.”

“I do not!” Gwaine protested immediately and when Morgana merely raised a brow toward him, he blushed and said, “what about you, Morgana? You remember exactly what happened last night . . . care to explain?”

“I already told you what I know--”

“That’s bullshit.” Gwaine grinned at Morgana’s affronted expression. “The two lovebirds might have missed it, but I could tell you had left quite a bit out.”

Morgana glared at him for a minute but finally gave in with a drawn out sigh.

“Well, Sir Knight,” she started. “Let’s just say that we both did some catching last night.”


	39. Chapter 39

Arthur couldn't see straight. Magic hung heavy in the air around him and every one of his senses was lost in the sensation of it. Merlin's magic was both crisp and fuzzy. Freezing cold and scorching hot. It had a sweet and earthy scent, like fresh sap and sprouting maple leaves. The scent was alive and strong, and it seemed to find pleasure as it curled its way up Arthur's nostrils. As Arthur kissed along Merlin's salty skin, he could taste the magic drip down the back of his throat. The taste of Merlin’s skin mixed with the taste of his magic was a new level of delicious. Merlin tasted like he _was_ made for Arthur and to Arthur the mere thought of that had him completely intoxicated.

The magic also buzzed in Arthur's ears and, combined with the quick thump of his beating heart, Arthur found the forest around him was completely drowned out. As it ran along his skin, the magic felt clean and safe, and Arthur couldn't worry about anything. He didn't feel the soft earth beneath him or the light raindrops that the sky shed above him. All Arthur could feel was Merlin’s body underneath his own and Merlin’s magic wrapped tightly around him soaking into his every pore.

Arthur had never been so wanton before. He was at a point where even his deepest fears didn't seem to scare him. His thoughts were unmanageable though. They jumped from one to the next as often as the kisses Arthur placed along Merlin's neck.

Long fingers grabbed at Arthur's armor. They pulled and prodded worse than the first time Merlin had ever taken the gear off of him. Merlin hadn't even ridded Arthur of his chest plate by the time Arthur had Merlin's upper half completely exposed, save for his red neckerchief.

Arthur took advantage of this. He dove down and lined every inch of pale skin he came across with wet kisses. Merlin's fingers grew clumsier as Arthur lapped at each of his pebbled nipples. Arthur groaned as each pebble tightened even more under his working tongue. The warlock lost all finesse when Arthur bit down and rolled one of the sensitive knots between his teeth. Merlin cried out and Arthur’s dick twitched at both the sound and the sight. 

Gods, Arthur was so hard, and only a thin layer of chainmail away from pressing himself against the most convenient place Merlin was offering . . . when he finally got said chainmail off, that was. Arthur quickly lost any prior thought process as he realized that the long line of Merlin's neck was more exposed than he’d ever seen it.

The red material of his neckerchief was bunched up and pushed to one side from the path that Arthur's mouth took on his way down only moments before. Mmm, Arthur thought that Merlin would look sinful against his sheets like this. One collarbone was exposed and Arthur found his eyes were drawn to the dark shadows that defined the expanse of Merlin's neck. The patterns grew deeper and more shallow each time Merlin writhed and swallowed.

Arthur wanted to keep Merlin like that forever. He never said that he wasn't selfish and Merlin understood that better than anyone else.

The warlock actually had a tendency to comment on it quite often and quite loudly.

The leather buckles were all but forgotten as Arthur continued to nip at the pinkened skin of Merlin’s chest and neck. Merlin held on to the metal like a lifeline instead.

Arthur himself was past coherent in so many ways, yet every bit of Merlin was crystal clear. They touched everywhere. At odd angles and perfect curves. At every point they met Arthur felt like he could feel Merlin's body better than he could feel his own. He was hyper aware of every movement and sound that Merlin made. Arthur took in Merlin in the most primal sense a human could have.

It wasn't magic or treachery that Arthur thought of as he stripped Merlin of the last lone piece of cloth that hid Merlin’s neck and ran his stained hands down Merlin's chest. No. Even as the evidence of it danced along Arthur's skin and tickled his every nerve and burned in Merlin’s eyes, Arthur watched the body that writhed beneath him and thought of nothing but pleasure, felt nothing but unfiltered happiness.

Arthur's world was narrowed down to the way Merlin's body looked under the white moonlight. Nothing else in life mattered anymore. There was so much pale flesh on display and he had an urge to touch and not stop until his hands had intently studied every inch. His urge to stay put and watch as Merlin lost it was just as high though. As the wind blew through the trees that towered over them, the shadows on Merlin's slender frame shook and moved with the far above leaves.

As he studied the dark patterns, the random urge to cover them with his own body beat out the rest.

Arthur's mind was merely a response system at this point. Prey to his desires. It now worked only off the stimulation Merlin provided him with. The task of ravishing Merlin felt like the easy one he'd ever faced. It was so natural.

Learned, structured, and taught. That was what Arthur was used to, but Merlin drew out Arthur's pure instinct. Like killing with his bare hands or liking the color red. It was so damned easy.

Arthur felt the hard line of Merlin's cock rub against his thigh, but instead of hiking up his chainmail and letting their clothed hardnesses meet, Arthur maneuvered himself so that he straddled Merlin's thin frame. A strong thigh pinned Merlin down on both sides as Arthur wriggled around and finally lifted up the long overhang of his chainmail.

Arthur wanted Merlin to know exactly what was about to happen if they ever got his damn armor off. Once he'd located Merlin's hardness, Arthur didn't hesitate to grind his arse down on it. Over and over again. He hadn't meant to do it so much or so hard but Merlin had melted into a delicious looking puddle underneath him, and Arthur wanted to keep him that way.

The sound of his armor being unlatched drew him from his Merlin induced stupor. The metal plates fell to the forest floor with a clank. Merlin still looked just as incoherent and he still had his long fingers locked in an iron grip on each of Arthur's thighs.

That's when it hit him. Merlin's magic didn't feel in the slightest bit debauched. Merlin might have been a mess under him but his magic still clung to Arthur with unwavering certainty and clarity.

“Come on then, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said as he rolled his hips. Then he leaned down and whispered in Merlin’s ear, “the faster you get these clothes off of me is the faster I’ll be riding your cock.”

Arthur bit Merlin’s ear for emphasis. Arthur had no clue what happened to his clothes, but by the time he’d rolled the lobe through his teeth, he was completely naked with Merlin’s bare cock rubbing against the line of his bare arse. 

The hardness felt so hot and right as it rubbed and slid along the puckered flesh of his hole. Arthur moaned when the tip caught for a moment and Merlin’s wet slit pressed in slightly. In the moment, Arthur felt like he would have opened right up for Merlin and easily took all of him in, though he knew it was merely a sensation built on the growing need that burned through his chest. The dire need to get Merlin inside of him and take as much of Merlin as he could get as soon as he could get it.

A whine rang deep from Arthur’s throat and he quickly brought his own hand to his mouth and sucked in two fingers. Though Merlin’s eyes had been tightly closed, they flew open right as Arthur did this and he groaned. The sound had Arthur’s dick twitching and the pace of his rutting speeding up. He also liked being able to see Merlin’s eyes, even if the normal blue was long gone and had been replaced with a startling, swirling gold. 

“Stop it,” Merlin hissed, but before Arthur could have asked what he meant, Arthur found his hand being forcefully ripped from his own mouth and both of his arms being maneuvered with out his permission. Each of his hands ended up locked on one side of Merlin’s neck so that all he could really see was Merlin’s flushed face and glowing eyes. Arthur almost laughed as he realized how many leaves Merlin had stuck in his hair now, but then a warm tingling feeling licked across his hole. 

Arthur shuddered as he realized Merlin was eating him out with his magic. It was a strange sensation, getting wet and opened by something so abstract while still rubbing against Merlin’s very real cock. He bucked and moaned as Merlin let the magic ravish his arse with short wet strokes and tingling plunges. Merlin’s cock felt wet suddenly too, Arthur realized that at the same time he felt the faint outline of long fingers ghosting along his hole. 

The fingers proceeded to fill Arthur without finesse. They fucked him opened and spread him wide until he couldn’t even hear himself start to beg for it, for more. 

Then without any warning the magic was everywhere else but his arse, and the tip of Merlin’s cock, hard and full and real, pressed against his hole. Before Merlin could move though, Arthur sank back onto him with a loud moan and seated himself fully against Merlin until the dark curly hairs tickled his stretched out rim and aching sack. 

Arthur was so full and though there wasn’t any pain just pleasure and glowing warmth, he still trembled as Merlin pressed against his every wall. Merlin was so thick and so hard as he split Arthur down the middle. Arthur realized his eyes had fallen shut and he opened them to find that Merlin’s were still closed. 

The warlock looked a mess and Arthur couldn’t believe it but it seemed that Merlin’s magic had been wrecked this time too. It was so loud and strong, practically tangible as it ran along both his and Merlin’s skin and pulsed through the air. 

Neither of them had moved, and though Arthur probably could have came from the feel of Merlin inside him alone, he knew that he wanted more. He knew that he wanted--needed--to fuck Merlin and take him and show him how much he was loved. 

So, Arthur moved.

The air felt sparked as he slowly pushed up and sank back down on Merlin’s hardness . . . over and over again. It was like once he had started, Arthur couldn’t have stopped. He only kept going, his pace becoming faster, and his hips rolling at their own accord as he steadily fucked himself as hard as he could on Merlin’s cock. 

“Arthur--I--fuck,” Merlin hissed, and that was all the warning he got before the faint feel of fingers had enveloped his own neglected hardness and Merlin begin to pump his hips up into Arthur as fast and hard as he could. 

Over the obscene slapping sounds of their wet skin, a buzzing warmth rang into Arthur’s ears and sank throughout his body until it pooled deep in his gut. Merlin continued to thrust, so deep and so hard, and it felt as each movement tugged on the pooling warmth and kept going until it all came rushing out through his cock and . . . 

_Shit fucking Gods above,_ that was no orgasm, Arthur was sure of it, though he had came in white stripes across Merlin’s hand and belly, and he could still feel the muscles in his arse tighten down and throb around Merlin’s cock. 

There was a new and real wetness slicking up his insides and Arthur smiled as he fell pliant against Merlin, knowing that he’d made the warlock come as well.

When he came back to himself, Arthur still had a smile on his face as he sat up and looked down at the warlock.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said, trying to hold back a chuckle. “Are you _crying_?” 

“No!” Merlin whined, and though he totally was Arthur didn’t say anything else about it. Just wiped Merlin’s wet cheeks and kissed him.


	40. Chapter 40

Arthur woke up and only remembered black. As he came into consciousness, two things popped into his mind: the plan and Merlin.

Merlin, who was still wrapped in Arthur’s arms from how they’d fallen asleep last night. After they’d came back from the woods, they’d stumbled in Morgana’s small cottage to find her fast asleep on a small cot with Aithusa cuddled close to her and Gwaine snoring on the floor.

Merlin had relit the fire with a thought and Arthur had almost gotten hard again just from seeing the golden glow swirl around his eyes. Instead of dragging Merlin out to the woods again for round two, Arthur had settled for kissing him senseless.

The sleeping knight hadn’t even stir as Merlin used his magic to steal the pillow he’d been using. Merlin had handed it to him and Arthur had laid back on it and dragged Merlin down on top of him, and they’d quickly fallen asleep.

Arthur opened his eyes to see Morgana watching him from the table where she sat and ate breakfast with Gwaine digging into his own next to her. When she noticed him staring back she nodded then looked away.

Merlin woke soon after and as he sat up, looking all confused and ruffled, Arthur felt his chainmail grow ridiculously cold, but he smiled. He knew he’d have his chance to keep Merlin against him soon.

Once they’d gotten his kingdom back.

Time seemed to go fast and before Arthur knew it, they’d all eaten and were ready to go.

They stuck to their plan. Merlin called Kilgharrah and the beast was soon lowering itself to the ground in front of Morgana’s cottage. The dragon bowed, like he already knew what Merlin was asking him to do. Or if he didn’t, he was going to do it anyway.

Merlin nodded back, and climbed onto his scale-y back, then he leaned down and reached an arm out toward Arthur.

And Arthur must have been crazy, but he took the offered hand climbed onto the dragon’s back.

Once they were settled, Morgana called out to them. “You know where to go?”

Merlin and Arthur both nodded.

“Well then,” Morgana sneered and hauled Gwaine close to herself. “Don’t be late.”

Then the two of them disappeared in a gust of swirling wind.

Arthur learned very quickly that he didn’t like flying. He actually quite hated it. Even though he’d never admit it out loud, it was the scariest thing he’d ever done. Arthur could tell that Merlin loved it though. The warlock looked free and determined all at once. So, Arthur tried to keep his eyes open if only so he could watch Merlin, and if Arthur caught a glimpse of the ground below them and had clung to Merlin for dear life. Well, Merlin could never prove it. It helped that Aithusa kept flying around his head and dropped kisses to his furrowed brow when she could.

It only seemed like minutes had passed when Kilgharrah lowered down and let Arthur off his back right inside the eastern wall of Camelot.

Arthur kissed Merlin and hopped to the ground.

“Be careful, Arthur,” Merlin said once Arthur had righted himself.

“You, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur drawled. “Need to careful.”

Merlin nodded seriously and Arthur could tell he was about to take off.

“Hey, Merlin,” Arthur called out.

“What?”

“I love you too, you know.”

Merlin nearly smashed his face in the dirt in his haste to get to Arthur and kiss him senseless. They didn’t break away until someone cleared their throat. Morgana, Gwaine, and Kilgharrah were all watching them, Arthur realized.

He gave Merlin one last peck and everyone was back to the plan.

Gwaine and Arthur sat one stone on the ground and guarded it while Merlin and Morgana left to get the other ones in place. Arthur could tell when all three stones had been placed accordingly because they started to morph and glow stronger than he’d ever seen them before. Just like Morgana said they would.

Gwaine and Arthur shared one last look and a tight handshake before they both took off toward the castle.

~--~

Merlin was surprised when Morgana suddenly appeared in a gust of wind in front of him when she was supposed to be on the other side of the castle. 

“What--” he started but Morgana had suddenly pressed a knife in his hands.

“It’s charmed to kill demons, but will also kill their hosts, though I know you’ll use it if you have to unlike like those fools,” she declared, then faded away with the wind again. 

_Be strong, Merlin,_ the wind whistled after her.

~--~

The halls were eerily quiet as they made their way through them. Arthur had expected them to be crawling with demons that looked like his men, but it wasn’t until they reached the throne room did they even see another soul.

When they threw the doors open and barged in, Arthur quickly understood why.

Guinevere's body sat on the throne. However, she looked anything but a queen. Her normally long, yellow dress was ripped off way above the knee and she sat with her legs open, splayed wide, as she casually draped herself across the throne. Her dress also was barely yellow anymore because it was caked with so much blood. Like the demon had spent the night rolling around in it.

And there were at least twenty other demons clad in Camelot red standing between her and them.

“Ah, little king,” Gwen drawled, a predatory smile quickly ate her face. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Gwen raised her hand and when she grabbed at nothing but air, Arthur found himself burning from the inside out and falling to his knees. Gwaine seemed to be in the same state.

He started to grow scared as the pain amplified and evil laughter that put Morgana’s to shame sounded throughout the large room.

Then everything stopped. He heard movement all around him but he couldn’t bring himself to focus yet. The pain still throbbed inside him. When he could finally see again, he realized things were looking much better.

It looked like it was raining inside the throne room, but Arthur realized Merlin had somehow found a way to enhance the spell he’d already been using. There was no where a demon could go without it pouring down on them.

Arthur turned and found almost all of the demons rushing toward the doors. Before any could escape through, the heavy wood slammed closed with a loud bang and Morgana appeared before them in a gust of wind. The demons tried to make a retreat, and some of them managed, but when she held up both hands and started to chant, those closest to her fell to their knees. Large, thick clouds of black smoke started to pour out of their mouths and soon all that was left was unconscious bodies on the floor.

He heard Gwaine yell, but couldn’t find the knight anywhere. Suddenly he saw a flash of wavy brown locks and realized Gwaine was completely hidden from view by Percival, who seemed to have Gwaine backed into a corner.

He started to run toward them, when he was thrown by an invisible force and found himself flying through the air. Arthur’s head smacked the stone wall and when he tried to right himself he found he was seeing nearly three of everything.

There was three Guinevere's in bloodsoaked dresses making their way toward him. Arthur tried to scramble away, but everywhere hurt and he didn’t get too far. Arthur swallowed and braced himself against the wall instead. He had a feeling he was about to die, but hopefully he could at least distract her long enough to help the others to save his kingdom.

Soon she was upon him and now that he could see a little better he could tell how much the water from Merlin’s spell was effecting her, she burned and sizzled, but Arthur still couldn’t even find the strength to stand let alone fight. To Arthur’s disappointment she wasn’t looking for conversation, in fact she looked as though if she tried to talk all that would come out was pain-filled screams.

A tight grip wrapped around his throat, only instead of pressing and suffocating, it felt as if she tore into his very skin. Like she would press and press until she’d grabbed his throat and ripped it out through his neck.

Just as his vision faded black, Arthur heard a loud bellow and the hand left his throat. He blinked his eyes open and saw a bright flash of orange. Once, twice, and then everything was black and sulfury and black smoke had surrounded him. Arthur didn’t process what had just happened. Even as he saw the blurry form of Gwen collapse to the floor, it didn’t register until he heard Merlin’s wrecked sob.

Then, everything suddenly became crystal clear.

Gwen laid on the floor, alive, and very much herself again. She breathed heavily and her hands held her own stomach, but way too much blood still flooded from her middle and pooled around her on the floor. Merlin was suddenly there, dropping to his knees next to her.

“No, no, no, no,” Merlin sobbed, desperately trying to help her cover the wound with his shaking hands. “Fuck, Gwen, no. I’m so sorr--”

“Shh,” Gwen hummed and smiled up at Merlin’s face. It finally hit Arthur how close to death she really was. “Thank you, Merlin, thank you,” she whispered.

Merlin only cried harder, and Arthur couldn’t believe he was really about to watch her bleed out on the floor of Camelot’s throne room.

“You worthless idiot!” Arthur heard Morgana yell before she too had fallen to her knees and was covering Gwen’s wounds with her hands. “Come on, Merlin! You have to focus. We can do it together, okay? Focus!”

The pile of pressing hands suddenly started to glow a brilliant gold . . . 

And Gwen was saved.


	41. Chapter 41

Merlin brought back their people with a blinding burst of blue light.

And they all were dumbfounded when they'd opened the throne room doors and had servants bustling through like nothing had ever happened. They called for Gaius, and even he seemed none the wiser.

“Arthur,” Merlin called, and Arthur spun toward him. Merlin held up a crystal that had three flat sides. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

****

~ -- ~

Morgana watched the boys gaze into the crystal as she stood uneasily in Camelot’s throne room. She knew that she should go, but she had a feeling Merlin’s magic had left them a little surprise, and if it was what she suspected it was then she wasn’t about to miss it for the world. After watching their memories from last night through a pensieve, Arthur’s face would be priceless. She was sure of it.

“Hello,” said a sudden voice next to her. Morgana glanced over at Gwen and nodded.

“You should stay, I’m sure Arthur will let you come back after all this.”

Morgana snorted. “It’s a bit late for that.”

Gwen hummed thoughtfully. “Would it, well--would it change your mind if I told you I remember?”

Morgana furrowed her brow, Gwen smiled shyly and looked to her feet.

“Remember everything that happened while it was in me,” Gwen explained.

“Oh . . . er . . .” Morgana blushed a deep red. She’d hoped that if Gwen remembered that she wouldn’t bring it up. Ever. “You weren’t--I mean--I didn’t--the demon--”

Morgana cut herself off and took a few steps back from Gwen who suddenly seemed much too close.

“Just forget about it,” Morgana pleaded.

Gwen just giggled and took a step closer.

What had Morgana gotten herself into?

****

~ -- ~

Arthur suddenly remembered something at dinner later that night. “Wait . . . where’s Agravaine?” he asked.

Merlin hummed thoughtfully, Morgana sniggered, and Arthur never did find out what happened to his uncle.

**Author's Note:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> Hia. Thanks for reading! I know some things were kinda of left open-ended. I still plan to update a bit with things I might have missed. I just. I did not expect it to turn out so long! I probably would've added another 10,000 words had I been given the chance. Um. So yes. C=
> 
> Also, whimsycatcher has already added one great artwork to this story and she plans to add more because she is amazing! Though the artwork will be posted as part of this story, I will also be posting a stand-alone prequel that depicts a bit of the gang's adventures the night before. 
> 
> It should be good fun! You should stick around. 
> 
>  
> 
> Artist Notes:
> 
> The Big Bang lives on in the Merlin fandom, and I am delighted to participate again! Unfortunately, real life has been unexpectedly hectic, so I’m sorry to have just ONE piece to show – for now! I plan to finish three more pieces for this story by i_amtheoutlaw, who has been a fantastic partner, and whose writing is thrilling in so many ways. Thank you for being both so appreciative and understanding! <3
> 
>  
> 
> This story is loosely based on the premise of The Hangover, so I took inspiration from the movie’s unique end credits sequence - in which photos reveal what the characters were too drunk to remember! Similarly, Merlin and Arthur are drugged by berries which have made them forget the supernatural shenanigans they went through the night before... Well I thought I should draw out the more interesting bits they’d forgotten - such as getting their arses tattooed! ^^


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